UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA 
AT   LOS  ANGELES 


Shea,  of  the  Irish  Brigade 


SOME  SUCCESSFUL  BOOKS 

By  RANDALL  PARRISB 

MY  LADY  OF  THE  NORTH 

Seventieth    Tkautar.d 

MY  LADY  OF  THE  SOUTH 

Sixtieth  Thousand 

BOB  HAMPTON  OF  PLACER 

Sixty-fifth   Thousand 

SWORD  OF  THE  OLD  FRONTIER 

Fifty-second   Thousand 

BETH  NORVELL 

Fifty-third  Thousand 

WHEN  WILDERNESS  WAS  KING 

Fifty-fifth  Thousand 


SHEA 


OF 


THE  IRISH  BRIGADE 

A  Soldier's  Story 

By 

RANDALL  PARRISH 

Author  of  "When  Wilderness  Was  King,"  "The  Maid  of  the  Forest,'   etc. 


Frontispiece  in  color  by 

ALONZO  KIMBALL 


CHICAGO 

A.  C.  McCLURG  &  CO. 
19H 


Copyright 

A.  C.  McCLURG  &  CO. 
1914 


Published  March,   1914. 


Copyrighted  in  Great  Britain 


ijall  printing  CCompann. 


PS 
35-3 


"  Oh,  the  fighting  races  don  't  die  out, 

If  they  seldom  die  in  bed, 
For  love  is  first  in  their  hearts,  no  doubt," 

Said  Burke,  then  Kelly  said: 
"  When  Michael,  the  Irish  archangel,  stands, 
OP  The  angel  with  the  sword, 

gjj         And  the  battle-dead  from  a  hundred  lands 

Are  ranged  in  one  big  horde, 
Our  line,  that  for  Gabriel's  trumpet  waits, 

C^I 

JS£  Will  stretch  three  deep  that  day, 

^L        From  Jehosaphat  to  the  Golden  Gates  — 
Kelly  and  Burke  and  Shea." 

H        "  Well  here  's  thank  God  for  the  race  and  the  sod !  " 
«^ 

Said  Kelly  and  Burke  and  Shea. 

JOSEPH  I.  C.  CLARKE. 


3378 


CONTENTS 

CHAPTER  PAGE 

I  THE  FUGITIVE i 

II  A  SQUADRON  OF  GUARDS    ...  12 

III  WHAT  I  OVERHEARD    ....  23 

IV  I  MEET  THE  LADY    ....  36 
V  A  MUTUAL  UNDERSTANDING    .  50 

VI  THE  MERCY  OF  THE  CAPTAIN     .  62 

VII  I  FIGHT  THE  CAPTAIN     ...  76 

VIII  IN  DESPERATE  STRAIT    ...  92 

IX  THE  CASTLE  OF  ROISEL     .     .     .  105 

X  WITHIN  THE  WALLS     .     .     .     .  119 

XI  I  RELEASE  A  PRISONER     .     .     .  132 

XII  IN  THE  BANQUET  HALL     .     .     .  146 

XIII  THE  SECRET  STAIRS     .     .     .     .  160 

XIV  THE  DWARF'S  STORY   ....  172 
XV  THE  EMPTY  CELL 188 

XVI  WITH  MADEMOISELLE  ....  203 

XVII  WE  FACE  THE  SITUATION  .  .  221 

XVIII  THE  DEATH  OF  CASSIER  .  .  .  238 

XIX  FUGITIVES  IN  THE  RUINS  .  .  253 

XX  THE  VISION  ON  THE  ROOF  .  .  268 

XXI  WE  LAY  THE  GHOST  ....  282 

XXII  THE  ATTACK 300 

XXIII  THE  FIGHT  FOR  LIFE    .     .     .    .  315 

XXIV  CROSSED  SWORDS  WITH  DE  SAULE  328 
XXV  THE  SUNRISE  OF  TOMORROW     .  335 


Shea,  of  the  Irish  Brigade: 

A  Soldier's  Story 
CHAPTER  I 

THE  FUGITIVE 

THE  night  was  so  dark  and  the  road  so 
bad,  that  in  spite  of  my  desire  to  move 
swiftly  I  dare  not  spur  my  horse.  It  must 
have  been  an  ill-kept  road  at  best,  but  now, 
rutted  deep  by  the  wheels  of  passing  cannon, 
and  dug  up  by  cavalry  hoofs,  it  had  become 
almost  impassable.  Here  and  there  along  the 
way  I  had  been  obliged  to  circle  broken-down 
wagons,  and  now  and  then  a  lifeless  horse, 
while  many  a  discarded  musket  and  saddle 
littered  the  path.  That  the  troops  marching 
this  particular  route  had  been  Austrian  — 
Konigskegg's  devils  —  I  knew  well,  and  I  had 
no  wish  to  fall  into  their  hands.  The  uniform 
of  the  Royal  Irlandais  would  be  no  passport 
to  their  favor. 

And  it  was  plain  to  see  the  mood  in  which 


SHEA,  OF  THE  IRISH  BRIGADE 

they  marched,  for  not  a  living  thing  had  been 
left  behind.  In  all  that  wide  plain  only  deso 
lation  remained.  Here  and  there  the  night 
wind  fanned  into  glow  the  embers  of  a  burned 
hut,  and  once,  as  I  rode  aside  in  search  of 
water,  it  was  only  to  find  the  dead  body  of 
a  peasant,  shot  running  with  a  child  in  his 
arms.  The  same  bullet  had  sufficed  for  both. 
A  few  steps  away  lay  a  dog  bayoneted.  I 
hastened  from  the  spot,  leading  my  horse,  and 
listening,  but  there  was  no  sound  except  the 
wind.  The  very  silence  weighed  on  me. 

Yet  it  was  not  those  who  had  already  passed 
I  feared.  I  knew  where  they  would  be  by 
now  —  across  the  river,  no  doubt,  in  touch 
with  the  English  guards  —  but  there  were  oth 
ers  to  follow  —  Austrian,  Hanoverian,  Dutch 
—  all  straining  for  the  same  goal,  the  invest 
ment  of  Tournay.  They  would  come  this 
way;  at  any  instant  I  might  hear  the  rattle 
of  their  accouterments,  the  heavy  tread  of 
feet;  and  soon  it  would  be  dawn.  It  was  this 
knowledge  which  spurred  me  to  decided 
action.  I  no  longer  felt  fear  of  pursuit,  for, 

[2] 


THE  FUGITIVE 


even  if  my  absence  had  been  reported,  Saxe 
would  never  venture  to  send  a  small  party  so 
far  afield.  It  was  the  allies,  through  whose 
lines  I  was  seeking  passage,  that  I  needed  to 
avoid.  And  to  escape  discovery  I  must  find  a 
safe  hiding  place  before  dawn.  The  rough 
walls  of  a  home  of  some  pretensions  loomed 
black  to  the  right,  but  the  stones  had  been  shat 
tered  by  cannon  shot,  and  offered  no  protec 
tion.  Yet  I  found  here  the  trace  of  a  road 
leading  southward,  and  I  mounted  again  and 
rode  forward  with  greater  confidence,  meet 
ing  with  no  evidence  that  troops  had  passed 
that  way. 

I  must  have  covered  two  miles,  and  faint 
light  was  already  visible  in  the  east,  when 
the  road  skirted  the  edge  of  a  wood,  and 
turned  sharply  to  the  west.  Just  at  the  turn, 
dark,  seemingly  deserted,  appeared  a  small 
hamlet.  Not  to  exceed  a  half-dozen  houses 
were  huddled  there,  the  most  of  them  small 
peasant  shacks ;  but  the  one  closest  to  the  road 
was  a  larger,  square  building,  with  a  creaking 
sign  in  front.  Beyond  doubt,  and  not  long 

[3] 


SHEA,  OF  THE  IRISH  BRIGADE 

since,  it  had  been  an  inn.  Now,  not  a  figure 
moved  about  the  place,  nor  a  light  gleamed 
from  the  windows.  My  horse  stood  with 
drooping  head  while  I  explored  on  foot,  pass 
ing  entirely  around  the  building,  and  even 
entering  the  hovel  nearby.  There  was  no  sign 
of  life  to  be  discovered,  nor  any  evidence  of 
damage.  Apparently  the  near  approach  of 
the  armies  had  caused  the  inhabitants  to  flee  in 
terror,  leaving  their  homes  deserted.  Possi 
bly  troops  had  advanced  this  way,  but  if  so 
they  must  have  turned  aside,  for  not  a  door 
was  broken,  or  sign  of  damage  visible.  Dread 
of  the  allies,  a  rumor  of  their  approach,  had 
been  sufficient  to  send  the  people  flying  for 
their  lives. 

I  tried  the  doors,  finding  them  locked,  but 
finally  located  a  window  shutter  with  a  broken 
clasp  which  assured  entrance.  There  was  a 
trough,  half  filled  with  water,  beside  the  road, 
and  after  permitting  my  horse  to  drink  I  led 
him  to  the  shack  behind,  and  shut  him  securely 
in.  There  was  light  enough  by  then  for  me 
to  uncover  an  armful  of  fodder  with  which  to 

[4] 


THE  FUGITIVE 


make  him  content  in  his  new  quarters.  In  the 
gray  dawn  I  was  enabled  to  distinguish  more 
of  my  surroundings,  although  the  wood  shut 
off  all  view  to  the  south  and  east.  The  re 
mainder  of  the  circle  was  a  flat  plain,  termi 
nating  in  a  rocky  ridge  through  which  the  road 
ran,  with  a  large  building,  having  the  appear 
ance  of  a  monastery,  topping  its  summit.  Even 
at  that  distance  I  could  perceive  it  had  been 
gutted  by  fire,  and  was  roofless.  In  no  direc 
tion  was  there  sign  of  human  life,  yet  I  knew 
not  what  furtive  eyes  might  be  watching  me 
from  the  wood  shadow.  Nevertheless,  I  must 
hide  here  if  at  all,  and  my  needs  demanded 
both  food  and  a  couch.  Every  muscle  of  my 
body  ached  from  fatigue. 

No  sound  reached  me,  not  even  a  movement 
of  my  horse;  by  now,  no  doubt,  munching 
away  in  content,  well  satisfied  with  his  new 
quarters.  The  leverage  of  a  billet  of  wood 
served  to  open  the  shutter,  and  I  clambered 
easily  enough  onto  the  window  ledge.  Noth 
ing  within  deterred  me,  and  my  feet  touched 
the  floor.  Except  for  the  faint  gray  light  find- 

[5] 


SHEA,  OF  THE  IRISH  BRIGADE 

ing  entrance  through  the  open  window,  the 
interior  remained  dark  and  obscure.  Yet  the 
few  dim  objects  near  at  hand  told  me  I  was 
in  the  taproom,  which  apparently  remained 
just  as  deserted.  That  the  flight  of  its  former 
occupants  had  been  hurried  was  proven  by  sev 
eral  overturned  glasses  on  a  table,  and  the 
spigot  of  a  cask  loosened,  so  the  contents  had 
flooded  the  floor.  The  breath  of  wine  was  in 
the  air,  a  sickening  odor.  I  stepped  cautiously 
forward,  glancing  into  every  dark  corner  to 
assure  myself,  and  then  taking  swift  survey 
of  the  entire  room. 

It  was  an  apartment  of  size,  containing 
three  or  four  rough  home-made  tables,  and  a 
number  of  benches.  A  huge  fireplace  occu 
pied  one  end;  the  broad  mantel  above  being 
ornamented  with  numerous  German  steins, 
while  a  comfortable  woven  chair  was  in  front. 
The  ashes  on  the  hearth  were  black  and  cold, 
although  the  broken  blade  of  a  sword,  evi 
dently  utilized  as  a  poker,  lay  half  hidden  in 
their  fragments.  Along  one  side  were  kegs  — 
two  of  them  tapped  —  with  a  narrow  table 

f6] 


THE  FUGITIVE 


in  front  holding  an  array  of  pewter  mugs. 
Beyond,  a  door  stood  ajar  leading  into  a 
smaller  room  which  proved  to  be  the  kitchen, 
while  a  ladder  led  upward  through  a  trap  to 
the  floor  above.  The  ceiling  of  rough  hewn 
timber  was  low,  blackened  by  smoke  and  age, 
the  floor  dirty  and  strewn  with  straw. 

Here  all  was  indeed  a  picture  of  dirt  and 
squalor,  yet  forced  by  hunger  I  rummaged  the 
pantry,  finding  a  black  loaf  and  a  bit  of  cold 
roast,  on  which  I  made  a  hearty  meal,  wash 
ing  it  down  with  a  glass  of  fair  Burgundy,  tak 
ing  stock  as  I  did  so,  of  my  surroundings  now 
more  plainly  revealed  as  the  day  dawned. 
What  had  driven  mine  host  away  so  suddenly, 
and  depopulated  the  village,  I  could  only  sur 
mise.  Little  doubt  however  but  some  threat 
ened  inroad  of  Austrians  had  caused  a  panic 
during  the  night,  and  if  so  the  owners  would 
likely  come  creeping  back  again  as  soon  as  the 
return  of  day  gave  them  courage.  Well,  let 
them  come:  I  must  hide  and  sleep,  and  these 
people  would  be  French.  Even  if  discov 
ered,  the  attic  failing  to  conceal  me,  the  uni- 

[7] 


SHEA,  OF  THE  IRISH  BRIGADE 

form  I  wore  would  protect  me  from  violence. 

I  fastened  the  window  by  which  I  had 
gained  entrance  and  crept  up  the  ladder,  the 
rungs  creaking  under  my  weight,  and,  with 
head  above  the  rough  flooring  surveyed  the 
surroundings.  The  ill-thatched  roof  admit 
ted  plenty  of  air  and  light.  There  were  no 
furnishings  except  some  disreputable  cover 
lets  on  the  bare  floor,  and  a  pile  of  straw  in 
the  further  corner.  I  had  drawn  myself  to  my 
knees,  before  I  noticed  the  body  of  a  man 
lying  outstretched  beneath  the  eaves.  His  face 
was  toward  me,  that  of  a  man  of  middle-age, 
full-jowled  with  black  beard,  streaked  with 
gray.  His  clothes  were  well  worn,  but  of 
good  cut,  and  I  took  him,  at  first  glance,  to 
have  been  an  upper  servant  to  some  house  of 
quality.  There  was  pest  in  the  camps,  but  I 
had  little  fear  of  it  then,  for  no  disease  had 
killed  this  fellow,  and  I  turned  him  over,  find 
ing  what  I  expected,  a  knife  thrust  in  the  back. 
Faith!  he  had  never  known  what  killed  him. 

Five  years  of  service  had  left  me  careless  of 
death.  I  had  slept  on  battle  fields  strewn  with 

[8] 


THE  FUGITIVE 


corpses,  forgetful  of  all  but  my  own  need. 
Now  I  was  in  little  better  stress,  being  worn 
with  fatigue,  my  eyes  held  open  by  effort. 
The  man  was  not  a  soldier;  he  was  nothing  to 
me,  nor  had  I  any  interest  in  the  taproom 
quarrel  wherein  he  was  shuffled  off.  So  I 
drew  a  quilt  over  him,  crossed  to  the  other 
side,  and  lay  down  on  a  pile  of  clean  straw. 
I  could  not  see  the  hidden  form  from  where 
I  lay,  nor  did  I  give  another  thought  to  its 
presence,  looking  to  the  priming  of  my  pistols, 
and  loosening  my  swordbelt  that  I  might  rest 
with  more  ease.  Yet,  weary  as  I  was,  I  lay 
there  for  some  time,  staring  up  at  the  roof, 
my  mind  busy  with  events. 

All  that  had  occurred  to  place  me  in  this 
predicament  passed  before  me  in  review.  Up 
to  this  moment  I  had  had  no  time  for  thought 
except  to  escape,  to  penetrate  the  closing  lines 
of  the  allies.  But  now  memory  returned  and 
I  saw  again  the  mess-tent,  the  table  strewn 
with  cards,  the  faces  of  the  men  crowding 
about  me;  I  heard  the  oath  and  felt  the  blow; 
I  looked  once  more  into  the  hated  features 

[9] 


SHEA,  OF  THE  IRISH  BRIGADE 

of  d'Enville,  and  felt  the  thrill  as  our  sword 
blades  touched.  Ay!  it  was  a  good  fight,  and 
a  fair  one,  but  to  kill  d'Enville  —  a  captain 
of  the  staff  —  meant  death.  There  would  be 
no  mercy  from  his  friend,  Lord  Clare.  And  I 
had  killed  him !  even  now  the  stain  of  the  chev 
alier's  blood  was  on  my  sword. 

As  he  lay  there  on  the  floor,  Bain,  Kelly, 
O'Brien  flung  themselves  between,  as  some 
started  to  seize  me,  and  won  me  free  passage 
to  the  door.  Dazed  as  I  was  I  knew  what 
must  be  done.  Whose  horse  I  took  God 
knows,  but  there  were  loaded  weapons  in  the 
holsters,  and  the  steed  bore  me  well.  A  bullet 
followed,  but  by  then  we  were  speeding  off  in 
the  night. 

Twice  they  stopped  me  —  at  Antoine  and 
Fontenoy  —  but  I  had  the  word:  'T  was  what 
O'Brien  had  whispered  in  my  ear,  and,  think 
ing  me  an  aide  to  Saxe,  I  found  free  passage. 
Oh,  well,  that  was  all  over.  However  fierce 
the  chase  it  could  never  come  thus  far  afield, 
for  the  Austrians  were  between.  I  could  rest 
until  night,  and  then  ride  on,  trusting  the 

[10] 


THE  FUGITIVE 


darkness.    Perchance  I  might  find  a  peasant 
who  would  guide  me  by  some  secret  path. 

It  was  quiet  outside  in  the  dawn:  no  sound 
disturbed  me,  and  I  fell  asleep. 


CHAPTER  II 

A  SQUADRON  OF  GUARDS 

1MUST  have  slept  for  hours  undisturbed, 
for  when  I  did  awake  the  sun  was  in  the 
west,  and  a  ray,  stealing  through  a  crevice  of 
the  roof  into  my  eyes,  aroused  me.  All  was  so 
wondrously  still  as  to  seem  strange  to  one  long 
inured  to  the  ceaseless  noise  of  camps.  Feel 
ing  hungry  again  I  descended  to  the  deserted 
room  below,  helping  myself  to  food  and  drink, 
and  pushing  open  the  shutter  that  I  might 
look  up  and  down  the  road.  It  lay  white  and 
undisturbed  in  the  sunlight.  There  were  no 
deep  ruts  visible,  such  as  passing  artillery 
would  have  left,  and  no  hoof  marks  to  show 
that  any  considerable  body  of  horse  had  lately 
passed  that  way.  Why  then  had  the  villagers 
deserted  their  homes?  What  fear  could 
account  for  this  inn  being  left  unguarded? 
Surely  the  dead  body  upstairs  could  not  be 
the  sole  reason.  A  murder  might  bring 

[12] 


A  SQUADRON  OF  GUARDS 


momentary  terror  to  those  concerned  —  al 
though  God  knows  death  by  violence  was 
common  enough  thereabout  in  those  days  — 
yet  it  would  not  prevent  return.  The  guiltless 
would  swiftly  come  back  as  soon  as  reason 
asserted  itself.  There  must  be  some  terror 
here  of  which  I  was  ignorant,  some  knowledge 
of  the  movement  of  troops  this  way,  or,  per 
chance,  a  superstitious  horror  more  deadly 
still. 

I  shrugged  my  shoulders,  sipping  the  wine, 
careless  of  what  the  cause  might  be.  I  was 
young,  a  soldier,  content  to  take  things  as  they 
came,  confident  in  my  strength  and  wit.  What 
ever  came  I  would  meet  the  onset  as  best  a 
man  might,  and  meanwhile  here  was  food  and 
shelter  —  what  could  I  ask  more?  It  was 
some  hours  yet  until  night,  and  I  lay  down 
on  a  bench  to  wait  the  shadows,  pillowing  my 
head  on  my  jacket  while  endeavoring  to  revive 
some  definite  memory  of  the  country  I  must 
traverse  through  the  dark.  It  was  vague 
enough,  that  road  to  Paris,  only  I  would  be 
safer  to  ride  between  Douai  and  Valenciennes, 

[13] 


SHEA,  OF  THE  IRISH  BRIGADE 

both  of  which  would  contain  garrisons.  Once 
beyond  Lourches  I  might  proceed  at  ease,  save 
for  a  watchful  eye  after  stragglers,  who  would 
cut  my  throat  for  a  song.  Sooth  1  it  did  not 
look  to  be  so  hard  a  task,  and  I  closed  my  eyes 
again. 

I  must  have  slept,  for  the  trampling  of 
horses  without,  and  the  tone  of  a  loud  voice, 
giving  some  indistinct  order,  startled  me  to 
my  feet.  It  was  already  dusk  within,  although 
I  caught  a  gleam  of  light  through  the  broken 
shutter.  I  grasped  my  jacket,  hesitating,  as 
uncertain  what  to  do  as  to  what  had  happened. 
There  were  men  outside,  and  horses  —  how 
many  I  could  not  judge,  yet  surely  quite  a 
squad  from  the  jingle  of  accouterments,  and 
the  restless  tread  of  hoofs.  Whoever  they  were 
they  must  be  soldiers  and  enemies,  and  I 
backed  slowly  toward  the  ladder  leading  to 
the  loft,  scarcely  venturing  to  breathe,  and  lis 
tening  for  every  sound.  There  was  no  way 
out,  no  path  of  escape:  I  could  only  hope  to 
hide  in  the  darkness  above.  If  they  had  no  sus 
picions  there  would  be  little  search.  I  was 


A  SQUADRON  OF  GUARDS 


half  way  up  when  a  hand  roughly  shook  the 
door;  then  a  heavy  boot  crashed  against  it. 

"  They  Ve  barred  the  door,  sir,"  said  a 
coarse  English  voice,  and  the  boot  crashed 
again  against  the  hard  oak  panel. 

"  Then  your  kicking  is  waste  of  good 
leather,"  and  I  could  distinguish  the  jingle  of 
a  steel  scabbard,  as  the  leader  swung  down 
from  his  saddle.  "  Look  about  for  something 
with  which  to  force  the  lock.  St.  Annel  the 
place  is  as  bare  as  a  stripped  chicken!  Hear 
you  any  sound  of  the  rascals  within?  " 

"  Not  a  peep,  sir.  'T  is  my  faith  they  Ve 
taken  to  the  hills  at  sight  of  us." 

"  And  let  us  hope  left  us  an  inn  stocked  to 
our  needs,"  with  a  laugh.  "  'T  is  God's  mercy, 
and  not  to  be  frowned  at.  What  find  you, 
lads?" 

"  There  is  naught  here,  sir,"  replied  another 
voice,  "  of  size  for  a  ram." 

"  No?  then  pry  away  at  the  shutters  with 
your  swords.  Lift  Saunders  on  your  shoulders 
—  so!  Once  inside,  and  we  have  the  castle. 
Ah !  easily  done,  men ;  now  rip  it  out." 


SHEA,  OF  THE  IRISH  BRIGADE 

I  could  see  the  fellow  outlined  against  the 
streak  of  sky,  as  he  thrust  a  forked  beard  into 
the  narrow  opening.  He  was  wrenching  still 
at  the  obstinate  shutter,  and,  taking  swift 
advantage  of  the  noise  to  conceal  my  own 
movements,  I  crept  into  the  attic,  and  snug 
gled  down  under  the  straw.  I  could  hear  as 
plainly  as  in  the  room  below,  but  the  flooring, 
although  warped  and  ill-laid,  prevented  my 
seeing  anything.  My  heart  beat  rapidly,  for 
I  fully  comprehended  now  the  peril  which 
would  follow  my  discovery.  The  Austrians, 
or  Hollanders,  would  have  served  me  better 
than  these  brawling  English.  They  would 
show  small  mercy  to  one  wearing  my  uniform. 
And  what  could  they  be  doing  here?  'Twas 
said  in  camp  the  Duke  of  Cumberland  was 
to  the  north,  yet  here  surely  was  a  squadron 
of  Guards,  and  very  much  at  home. 

I  could  distinguish  the  movements  below, 
as  the  fellow  dropped  from  the  window, 
crossed  the  floor,  striking  against  the  table 
in  the  dark,  and  swearing  vigorously,  as  he 
unbarred  the  door. 

[16] 


A  SQUADRON  OF  GUARDS 


"What  is  it,  Saunders?"  called  out  the 
voice  of  the  officer.  "Ah!  a  cracked  shin: 
scarce  occasion  for  so  much  fuss.  Start  a  fire 
in  the  grate,  man,  and  Austen  make  a  search 
for  lights.  What  think  you  has  become  of 
mine  host?  " 

"  Frightened  away  by  our  last  visit,  no 
doubt,  Captain,"  replied  another,  laughing. 
"  He  was  a  cowardly  fool,  and  the  Lambs 
were  frolicksome." 

"  Yet  he  had  no  knowledge  of  our  return." 

"  No,  but  suspicioned  that  others  of  our 
trade  might  be  abroad  to  ride  this  way.  I 
wonder  what  the  louts  did  with  the  body." 

"  Ah!  faith,  but  I  had  forgotten  that,  Dorn. 
Here  two  of  you  men :  flash  a  lanthorn  up  the 
ladder  there,  and  see  if  there  be  a  body  above. 
If  so,  pass  it  outside." 

I  could  see  the  faint  glimmer  of  light  as  the 
fellows  came  through  the  opening,  grumbling 
at  their  unpleasant  task.  I  lay  motionless, 
scarcely  daring  to  breathe,  for  I  recognized 
them  now  as  a  detachment  of  Shepard's 
Lambs,  and  knew  my  death  warrant  signed 
[17] 


SHEA,  OF  THE  IRISH  BRIGADE 

were  I  once  discovered.  They  flashed  the 
lanthorn  my  way,  but  the  pile  of  quilts  caught 
their  attention  first,  and  thus  they  came  upon 
the  corpse  with  no  delay.  And  they  made 
little  enough  of  their  job,  thrusting  the  dead 
body  down  the  ladder  into  the  grasp  of  others 
below,  joking  coarsely  as  they  did  so,  and  then 
clambering  after,  without  even  a  glance 
behind.  The  captain  halted  the  squad,  and 
must  have  stepped  up  to  have  glimpse  at  the 
dead  man's  face,  for  I  heard  him  say: 

"  Enough  of  that  horseplay,  lads.  It 's  the 
fellow,  Dorn:  I  wish  he  'd  lived  that  I  might 
question  him  about  the  mission  of  my  lady, 
for  never  was  there  a  hussy  with  a  tighter  lip. 
Ay!  bury  him;  back  a  bit  from  the  road.  Go 
with  them  yourself,  Dorn,  and  then  bring  in 
the  princess  —  or  whatever  the  witch  may  be 
—  for  \  is  my  humor  she  sup  with  the  two  of 
us  here.  There  seems  to  be  wine  in  plenty, 
and  it  may  loosen  her  tongue." 

"  Am  I  to  bury  the  body  first.  Captain  Awl- 
right?  " 

"  St.  Christopher  —  yes.  She  does  n't  know 
[18] 


A  SQUADRON  OF  GUARDS 


the  man  is  dead,  nor  what  he  may  have  told  us : 
nor  do  I  mean  she  shall.  I  '11  match  her  wits, 
the  vixen,  before  she  faces  the  duke.  It 's  my 
faith  there  is  a  tale  here  worth  telling.  Oh! 
Saunders,  bring  me  a  bottle,  and  search  the 
larder:  there  will  be  three  at  table  here." 

Encouraged  by  the  shuffling  of  feet,  I  crept 
out  of  the  straw  covert,  and  across  to  the  head 
of  the  ladder.  Here,  crouched  in  the  dark 
ness,  I  could  gaze  down  on  the  scene  in  the 
room  below  with  slight  danger  of  discovery. 
The  lanthorn  sat  upon  the  large  table,  but  it 
was  the  glow  of  the  fire  which  lighted  the 
apartment.  A  soldier  still  poked  this  into 
brighter  flame,  while  another,  short  and 
slender  as  a  boy,  was  busy  at  the  row  of  kegs. 
I  could  not  see  distinctly  the  faces  of  either, 
but  their  uniform  was  that  of  the  English 
Guard. 

The  officer  sat  alone,  half  sprawled  on  the 
bench,  bottle  and  glass  already  before  him, 
his  jack-boots  spattered  with  mud,  and  his  face 
shaded  by  one  arm.  He  was  a  man  of  forty  I 
judged,  a  big  fellow,  with  bronzed  cheeks,  and 

[19] 


SHEA,  OF  THE  IRISH  BRIGADE 

a  prominent  nose.  His  dark  moustache  forked 
out  in  soldierly  fashion,  and  he  possessed  the 
look  of  one  who  had  seen  hard  service,  and 
could  give  and  take  stout  blows.  His  uniform, 
neat  enough,  yet  well  worn  by  campaign,  had 
evidently  been  cut  by  a  master-tailor,  and  I 
cataloged  him  as  a  bit  of  a  dandy  when  occa 
sion  served.  Yet  there  was  nothing  weak  in 
the  look  of  his  plain  leather  scabbard,  nor  in 
the  brown,  muscled  hand  that  gripped  the 
glass  of  liquor.  And  the  day  must  have  gone 
well  with  him,  for  he  was  in  rare  good  humor, 
humming  a  merry  tune,  with  eyes  roaming 
idly  about  the  room.  Nor  was  he  averse  to 
joking  with  his  men. 

"  Some  tang  to  that  stuff,  Saunders,"  he 
commented  gaily.  "  These  Frenchmen  know 
good  wine,  if  only  they  show  you  the  right 
bottle.  You  must  have  found  mine  host's 
private  stock.  'T  is  to  be  hoped  it  holds  out 
until  the  princess  comes.  Zounds,  but  a  nip  of 
this  ought  to  loosen  even  her  closed  tongue. 
What  have  you  there  in  the  shape  of  food  to 
serve  at  the  table?" 

['20] 


A  SQUADRON  OF  GUARDS 


"  Poor  enough,  my  lord :  a  bit  of  lean  pork 
with  oaten  bread." 

"  Not  to  be  sneezed  at  by  a  hungry  man. 
'T  is  more  than  we  might  expect  to  find  had 
the  Austrians  passed  this  way.  I  take  it  the 
road  was  not  on  their  field  map  —  praised  be 
the  gods!  Ah!  what  is  it,  Watson?  " 

The  guardsman  who  had  stepped  inside  the 
door,  saluted  stiffly. 

"  A  horse  with  French  cavalry  equipment  is 
in  the  building  at  the  rear,  sir.  Lieutenant 
Dorn  sent  me  to  tell  you,  sir." 

"What!  only  one?  Surely  we  can  have 
little  to  fear  from  a  stray  trooper.  Is  the 
animal  warm,  as  though  lately  ridden?  " 

"  Not  warm  now,  my  lord,  but  the  beast 
had  been  hard  drove  enough  before  being 
stabled." 

"  And  no  trace  of  the  rider?  " 

"  None;  we  have  searched." 

"  Piff!  the  animal  may  have  been  stolen 
from  some  dead  trooper,  and  hidden  there. 
But  have  a  guard  set  at  the  door,  Watson,  and 
patrol  the  road.  Another  bottle,  Saunders  — 

[21] 


SHEA,  OF  THE  IRISH  BRIGADE 

't  is  so  good  the  one  but  wets  my  appetite,  and 
I  would  fain  be  in  fettle  for  conversation,  so 
as  to  do  the  honors  for  my  lady.  Save  us !  but 
she  is  a  disdainful  witch,  full  of  a  proud  con 
ceit.  'T  will  be  a  pity  to  turn  her  over  to  such 
mercy  as  Lord  Hay  might  vouchsafe  —  ay! 
set  the  glasses  here,  and  the  plates.  By  faith! 
't  is  indeed  a  fair  tankard,  worthy  of  the  brew. 
Campaigning  in  Flanders  would  not  be  so  bad 
man,  could  we  strike  a  tavern  every  sundown. 
So,  'tis  well  spread  —  now  tell  Lieutenant 
Dorn  to  bring  the  fair  one  hither." 

The  soldier  disappeared,  leaving  the  outer 
door  ajar.  Back  and  forth  in  the  glow  of 
firelight  streaming  from  within  a  sentry  paced. 
I  could  glimpse  his  limbs,  and  the  glitter  of 
his  scabbard,  and  somewhere  out  in  the  dark 
ness  beyond  a  tenor  voice  was  singing  an  Eng 
lish  song.  Then  suddenly  the  guard  stood 
motionless,  and  a  man  and  woman  appeared 
together  in  the  opening. 


[22] 


CHAPTER  III 

WHAT  I  OVERHEARD 

THE  lady  stepped  first  across  the  thresh 
old,  the  man,  Dorn  no  doubt  from  his 
officer's  uniform,  pausing  to  close  the  door. 
Wrapped  as  she  was  in  a  long  gray  riding 
cape,  with  hood  drawn  up,  I  could  only 
observe  the  light  firmness  of  her  step,  and  the 
proud  poise  of  what  seemed  a  slender,  girlish 
figure.  But,  as  she  halted  in  the  full  glare  of 
the  firelight,  facing  the  man  at  the  table,  who 
still  retained  his  seat,  she  loosened  the  clasp 
at  her  throat,  pushing  back  the  concealing 
hood  with  a  white  hand.  I  felt  the  blood  leap 
in  my  veins  in  sudden  recognition.  Where 
before  had  I  seen  that  face,  those  dark,  dis 
dainful  eyes,  that  mouth  which  seemed  to 
smile  even  in  its  anger?  Somewhere  surely, 
and  yet,  for  the  life  of  me,  I  could  not  recall 
where,  or  when.  I  stared  at  her,  forgetful  of 
my  own  peril,  of  discovery,  groping  vainly 
in  the  dim  past.  I  could  not  remember  I  had 

[23] 


SHEA,  OF  THE  IRISH  BRIGADE 

seen  the  girl  before,  nor  could  I  believe  I 
would  ever  have  forgotten  had  there  been  once 
a  meeting.  Yet  the  face  fascinated  me  with 
its  strange  familiarity  —  a  tantalizing  mem 
ory  to  which  I  could  not  give  a  name.  Was 
it  merely  a  resemblance  to  some  one  else?  If 
so,  who?  Every  slight  movement  served  to 
deepen  my  perplexity,  yet  failed  to  awaken  my 
sluggish  recollection.  It  must  have  been  years 
ago,  if  at  all,  and  that  could  not  be,  for  the 
girl  was  young,  scarcely  twenty  to  my  judg 
ment  'Twas  odd  how  the  impression  clung; 
yet  struggle,  as  I  would,  I  could  not  escape  its 
haunting. 

The  memory  attached  to  her  voice  also,  full, 
clear,  thrilling  with  indignation,  as  she  stood 
there,  her  eyes  on  the  sprawling  captain. 

"  What  new  indignity  is  to  be  offered  me 
now,  Monsieur?  "  she  asked  in  French,  ignor 
ing  Dorn  who  waited,  grinning  at  her  shoul 
der. 

"  None  whatever,"  and  the  officer,  as  though 
suddenly  aware  of  his  graceless  posture,  took 
his  muddied  boots  off  the  bench,  and  stood  up, 

[24] 


WHAT  I  OVERHEARD 


bowing  in  semblance  of  gallantry.  "  Rather 
we  contemplate  an  act  of  courtesy  rare  enough 
in  this  campaign.  We  have,  by  the  fortunes 
of  war,  come  into  possession  of  food  and  wine, 
together  with  a  cheerful  fire,  and  a  roof.  'T  is 
our  pleasure  to  share  these  with  our  fair 
guest  —  " 

"  Your  prisoner,  you  mean." 

"  Indeed,  Mademoiselle,  I  do  not  know 
which  you  may  prove  to  be.  To  be  sure,  we 
are  in  duty  bound  to  detain  you.  Yet,  if  your 
tale  proves  true  the  tables  may  quickly  be 
turned." 

"  My  tale?  "  in  marked  surprise.  "  I  have 
told  no  tale." 

"Of  which  I  am  fully  aware;  yet  surely 
you  have  one  worthy  our  ears.  'T  is  not  like 
a  gentlewoman,  such  as  I  perceive  you  to  be, 
to  ride  alone  these  Flemish  roads  without  a 
reason.  'Twill  be  easier  far  to  tell  the  story 
to  me  than  to  Cumberland  —  he  is  a  rough 
old  hound." 

"  There  is  no  need  why  I  should  repeat  it 
to  either,"  she  responded  shortly.  "  'T  is  no 

[25] 


SHEA,  OF  THE  IRISH  BRIGADE 

crime  to  be  a  French  woman,  nor  to  ride. 
Your  men  have  searched  me,  and  found 
nothing  to  their  purpose,  and  if  you  have 
brought  me  here,"  she  glanced  about  con 
temptuously,  "  to  question,  't  will  be  waste  of 
time.  I  will  not  answer  you:  no!  nor  your 
Duke  of  Cumberland." 

The  captain  laughed. 

"  Let  that  be  as  it  may,"  he  answered,  in 
seeming  good  humor.  "  The  world  wags,  and 
the  duke  can  look  after  himself.  I  am  but 
a  blunt  soldier  myself,  wearied  with  cam 
paign,  and  glad  enough  to  look  again  on  so  fair 
a  face  as  yours.  'Twas  that  we  might  sup 
together  that  I  had  you  brought  here  —  ayl 
the  three  of  us  with  much  good  cheer.  Come, 
Mademoiselle,  the  chair  is  yours;  we  will 
share  the  bench." 

She  did  not  move,  although  her  slight  form 
seemed  to  straighten. 

"  You  mistake,  Monsieur;  I  choose  my  com 
pany." 

"  Ay!  but  could  you  do  better?  Though  I 
am  only  a  Captain  of  Guards,  yet  they  call  me 
[26] 


WHAT  I  OVERHEARD 


Lord  Dalhousie  in  England,  and  Dorn  here 
has  an  estate  in  Kent,  with  a  castle  on  it,  where 
a  king  has  been  guest." 

She  turned  her  eyes  from  the  one  face  to  the 
other. 

"  You  are  ranked  as  gentlemen  in  your  own 
country?  " 

The  captain  bowed. 

"  'T  is  not  questioned." 

"  Then  why  not  act  the  part  here,  Mes 
sieurs?  I  am  a  woman  alone:  I  will  not  say 
of  gentle  blood,  but  of  respectability.  I  am 
no  woman  from  the  camp,  to  be  treated  with 
insult.  I  beg  you  consider  before  it  be  too 
late:  there  are  those  who  would  draw  sword 
for  me." 

"  Ay !  I  know  that  beyond  a  doubt.  Prithee ! 
I  would  do  it  myself;  yet  'tis  not  likely  the 
threat  of  a  sword  point  would  greatly  frighten 
one  brought  up  to  the  trade  —  what  say  you, 
Dorn?" 

"  That  I  would  rather  enjoy  the  exercise," 
responded  the  lieutenant,  a  dapper  young 
blood,  disposing  himself  carelessly  on  the 

[27] 


SHEA,  OF  THE  IRISH  BRIGADE 

bench.  "  'T  is  a  week,  or  more,  since  I  crossed 
blades  in  quarrel." 

"  With  best  of  excuse,"  and  Awlright 
laughed,  "  for  't  is  that  length  of  time  we  have 
been  on  scout,  with  not  a  cowardly  Frenchman 
to  be  seen.  Mademoiselle,  perchance  you 
could  tell  us  where  they  have  gone  for  cover?  " 

"  Perchance  I  could,  but  I  will  not.  'T  is 
my  thought  you  will  discover  to  your  cost." 

"  May  the  gods  be  good.  It  has  been  like  a 
fox  chase  thus  far,  and  I  have  forgotten  I  am 
a  soldier." 

"  Nor  is  that  all  you  have  forgotten,  Mon 


sieur." 


"  You  mean  to  be  a  gentleman?  Forsooth, 
that  is  no  more  than  a  point  of  view.  To  my 
mind  now,  there  is  little  enough  you  can  com 
plain  about.  You  are  under  guard,  of  course. 
I  could  do  no  less  to  one  striving  to  pass  our 
lines  in  secret.  The  orders  are  strict,  and  Lord 
Hay  does  not  take  kindly  to  excuses.  I  Ve  had 
my  lesson,  Madam.  Yet  I  have  been  gentle  — 
no  man  of  my  troop  has  laid  hand  on  you,  nor 
spoke  uncouth.  Is  this  not  true?  What  then? 

[28] 


WHAT  I  OVERHEARD 


Is  it  because  I  ask  you  here  to  bear  us  com 
pany  at  the  best  meal  we  have  had  for  a  month 
past?  " 

"  I  was  not  asked,  Monsieur,  I  was  com 
pelled.  When  I  requested  to  be  excused  I  was 
threatened  and  driven." 

"  I  knew  that  not.  Yet  why  seek  excuse? 
There  are  ladies  of  the  court  who  would 
gladly  sup  with  me :  ay,  a  many  of  them." 

"  Of  the  English  Court:  I  have  heard  they 
were  not  particular." 

The  captain  choked  back  a  swift  oath,  his 
cheeks  reddening  to  sudden  anger. 

"  'T  is  enough,  you  little  spit-fire.  I  '11  no 
longer  play  gentleman  with  you.  By  Gad !  I  'm 
the  master  here,  and  more  used  to  camps  than 
courts,  I  '11  admit.  So  sit  you  down,  Madam. 
Whether  or  not  it  be  your  choice  to  compan 
ion  with  us,  I  care  nothing.  Stolen  fruit  is  the 
sweeter  they  say,  and  I  'm  in  a  mood  to  have 
amusement.  Ay!  you  'd  better  do  as  I  say  with 
out  more  words,  or  I  '11  find  ways  to  make  you 
—  your  eyes  do  n't  frighten  me." 

I  thought  for  the  instant  she  would  refuse, 


SHEA,  OF  THE  IRISH  BRIGADE 

and  I  am  sure  it  was  no  sense  of  fear  which 
finally  led  her  to  action.  There  was  naught 
but  contempt  in  her  face,  as  her  hand  gripped 
the  back  of  the  chair,  yet  she  sat  quietly  down, 
fronting  the  two  of  them,  but  far  enough  back 
from  the  table  to  afford  an  opportunity  for 
attempt  at  escape. 

"  So  then,  I  am  here  for  your  amusement, 
Monsieur,"  she  said  coldly.  "  'T  is  a  frank 
confession." 

"The  word  may  have  been  ill-chosen:  my 
French  is  not  of  the  best.  Rather  it  is  infor 
mation  I  seek.  Saunders,"  and  he  waved  his 
hand,  "  you  may  serve;  a  bottle  of  wine  first." 

The  young  woman  remained  silent,  watch 
ing  the  soldier,  as  he  came  silently  forward 
and  filled  the  empty  glasses.  Her  head  was 
bowed  slightly,  concealing  her  features  from 
me,  crouching  as  I  was  almost  directly  above 
them.  Evidently  the  captain  felt  that  he  had 
won  his  point,  for  he  lifted  his  glass,  admiring 
the  rich  coloring  of  the  wine,  and  his  voice, 
although  still  loud,  had  lost  its  sting. 

"  I  can  recommend  this,  as  I  sampled  it 
[30] 


WHAT  I  OVERHEARD 


before  you  came,"  he  said  boastingly.  "  To 
our  better  acquaintance,  Mademoiselle." 

"  A  toast  in  which  I  have  no  desire  to  join," 
she  returned  firmly.  "  Come,  Monsieur,  let  us 
be  through  with  this  nonsense.  I  am  your  pris 
oner,  nothing  more.  I  will  neither  eat,  nor 
drink  with  you.  Besides  I  have  no  informa 
tion  to  give." 

The  man  leaned  forward,  staring  into  her 
face,  and  brought  down  his  fist  crashing  onto 
the  plank. 

"  You  are  a  fool  then!  "  he  retorted  angrily. 
"  By  Gad,  you  think  I  am  hard;  wait  'till  you 
front  the  others.  They  're  not  likely  to  care 
for  your  pretty  face,  or  your  fine  manners. 
See  here,  my  girl,  listen  to  what  I  say,  and 
show  some  sense.  I  'm  in  command  here :  it  is 
my  word  which  holds  you,  or  sets  you  free. 
Tell  me  your  tale,  and,  if  it  be  possible,  I  '11  let 
you  go  —  ay,  I  '11  send  an  escort  with  you.  Is 
that  fair  offer  enough?  " 

The  change  in  the  man  puzzled  her;  I 
could  see  that  by  the  little  frown  between  her 
eyes,  the  compression  of  her  lips.  Saunders 

[31] 


SHEA,  OF  THE  IRISH  BRIGADE 

came  forward  with  plates  and  cups,  and  nei 
ther  spoke  until  he  had  gone.  Dorn  leaned 
back  against  the  wall,  evidently  enjoying  the 
situation,  and  indifferent  as  to  its  termination. 

"Well?"  growled  Awlright  impatiently. 

"  What  is  it  you  wish  to  know?  " 

"  Your  name  and  residence,  Mademoiselle; 
why  you  were  endeavoring  to  ride  through  our 
lines  at  night,  and  who  the  man  was  that  was 
killed?" 

"  And  if  I  answer  I  go  free?  " 

"  That  must  depend,"  he  laughed.  "  You 
say  I  am  no  gentleman,  Mademoiselle;  but, 
by  Gad!  I  am  a  soldier." 

"  Very  well,  Monsieur:  I  will  try  if  you  be 
even  that,"  she  replied  quietly,  determined  on 
her  course.  "  I  am  Henrietta  Valois,  a  maid 
of  Cambrai,  daughter  of  the  Commissionaire 
—  you  know  him?" 

Awlright  shook  his  head. 

"  'T  is  not  a  town  T  have  ever  seen  — 
a  French  village?  " 

"  To  the  south  ten  miles,"  her  face  brighten 
ing.  "  I  was  at  Douai  with  my  aunt  — 
[33] 


WHAT  I  OVERHEARD 


Madame  D'Estelle,  by  the  east  gate,  Monsieur 
—  when  the  news  came  that  my  father  was 
about  to  die.  It  was  the  Austrians  who  had 
shot  him  at  his  own  door,  and  the  man  who 
rode  to  tell  me  was  our  servant  —  Francois 
La  Barge.  He  knew  the  road,  and  would 
guide  me  back.  We  rode  at  night,  deeming 
the  passage  would  be  safer  as  the  country  be 
tween  was  patrolled,  and  we  possessed  no 
passes.  We  chose  an  obscure  way,  and  were 
unchallenged  until  we  met  you.  It  was  Fran 
cois  La  Barge  who  was  killed." 

She  hid  her  face  in  her  hands. 

"  'T  is  a  sweet  tale,"  commented  Awlright 
mockingly,  with  a  glance  toward  his  lieuten 
ant,  "  did  we  not  chance  to  recognize  the  inno 
cent  servant.  Saints  alive!  the  fellow  was  our 
prisoner  three  days  ago,  but  escaped  us." 

There  was  the  tramp  of  horses'  hoofs  with 
out,  the  challenge  of  a  sentinel,  and  the  gruff 
sound  of  a  voice  speaking  German.  Both  offi 
cers  were  instantly  on  their  feet,  and,  at  a 
word  of  command  from  Awlright,  Dorn 
slipped  through  the  door  into  the  darkness. 
[33] 


SHEA,  OF  THE  IRISH  BRIGADE 

The  captain  swore,  staring  at  the  girl  who 
had  also  arisen,  her  hands  clasping  the  back 
of  the  chair. 

"  By  St.  George,  a  detachment  of  Dutch," 
he  exclaimed.  "  Little  as  I  think  of  your 
story,  it  will  not  do  for  them  to  find  you  here. 
They  are  scavenger  wolves.  Wait  —  ah,  I 
have  it!  Dorn  will  hold  them  there  a  minute. 
Up  the  ladder  with  you  to  the  loft,  and  draw 
it  after;  then  lie  down,  still  as  a  mouse,  until 
I  get  rid  of  the  fat  hogs.  T  will  not  be  long, 
or  I  miss  my  guess  —  I  have  no  stomach  for 
the  Dutch  as  comrades.  Hey!  Saunders,  clear 
the  table  here,  and  be  quick  about  it.  If  those 
swine  smell  food  they  never  will  leave.  Shut 
the  door  tight  —  and  now,  Madam!  " 

The  lady  ignored  his  extended  hands,  hold 
ing  her  skirt  closely,  as  she  stepped  to  the  foot 
of  the  ladder.  Without  doubt  she  fully  rec 
ognized  her  danger — rude  as  these  English 
had  been,  Dutch  or  Austrian  troops  would  be 
infinitely  worse  —  and  thought  at  that  mo 
ment  only  of  escaping  discovery.  I  drew 
silently  back  into  the  deeper  shadows,  and 
[34] 


WHAT  I  OVERHEARD 


huddled  beneath  the  eaves.  The  light  stream 
ing  up  through  the  opening  enabled  me  to  see 
her,  as  she  bent  over  and  drew  up  the  light 
ladder,  laying  it  quietly  aside,  a  portion  of  its 
weight  on  my  foot  Yet  I  never  stirred;  my 
eyes  watching  her  face  as  revealed  by  the  yel 
low  flare  of  the  candle  below. 


[35] 


CHAPTER  IV 

I  MEET  THE  LADY 

I  HEARD  Awlright  speak  hastily  and  in 
low  tone,  likely  a  last  word  of  warning, 
and  then  the  rattle  of  a  scabbard  as  he  re- 
buckled  his  sword  belt.  From  where  I  now 
crouched  no  view  of  the  room  below  could 
be  obtained,  but  I  knew  the  captain  stood 
waiting.  It  seemed  to  me  the  others  were 
awhile  coming,  the  faint  sound  of  voices  out 
side  betokening  some  controversy.  In  the 
silence  I  dare  not  reveal  my  presence  to  the 
young  woman,  for,  in  her  first  startled  sur 
prise,  she  might  make  some  alarm  for  Awl- 
right  to  overhear.  If  the  newcomers  entered, 
and  they  got  into  conversation  below,  then  the 
attempt  at  communication  might  be  made 
with  less  peril. 

Why  I  should  address  her,  or  permit  her 
to  know  of  my  presence,  was  a  puzzle.  I 
was  myself  a  fugitive,  marvelously  fortunate 

[36] 


/  MEET  THE  LADY 


thus  far  to  escape  discovery.  Indeed,  as  things 
stood,  there  was  small  choice  whether  I  fell 
into  the  clutch  of  the  allies,  or  that  of  the 
French.  If  the  former  my  fate  would  be 
likely  that  of  a  spy,  the  sentence  swift  and 
merciless;  while  if  the  latter  I  would  face  a 
court  martial,  with  a  result  scarcely  less  seri 
ous.  Yet  in  spite  of  all  this  I  was  a  soldier 
wearing  the  uniform  of  France.  If  I  had  de 
serted  the  colors,  it  was  merely  to  save  my 
own  life,  animated  by  the  hope  that  my  story 
once  told  to  the  King  would  bring  pardon. 
That  was  my  only  chance,  for  Saxe,  sick  and 
irritated,  would  never  forgive  or  forget.  But 
Louis  XV  —  he  had  pledged  me  once  his  fa 
vor,  and  I  would  ask  it  now.  There  lay  my 
only  chance.  Still  it  was  not  this,  altogether, 
which  decided  my  action.  I  remained  in 
spirit,  and  through  training,  a  French  soldier. 
With  small  knowledge  of  the  cause  for  which 
I  fought  I  yet  remained  loyal  to  my  comrades. 
Never  could  I  aid  either  English  or  Austrian, 
or  be  guilty  of  treachery.  'Twas  not  in  my 
blood.  And  this  girl  was  serving  France! 

[371 

409378 


SHEA,  OF  THE  IRISH  BRIGADE 

How,  in  what  measure,  I  could  not  determine, 
but  her  desperate  ride  through  the  night,  seek 
ing  to  pierce  the  lines  of  the  allies;  the  fact 
that  she  had  refused  to  account  for  herself 
to  this  English  captain,  and  then  later  told 
him  a  false  tale,  left  me  in  no  doubt  as  to  her 
mission.  If  I  could  serve  her  I  would  serve 
France.  The  service,  if  of  sufficient  impor 
tance  and  peril,  might  even  atone  for  my 
breach  of  discipline;  would,  at  least,  add  po 
tency  to  my  plea  for  pardon. 

Ay!  and  I  wanted  to  serve  her.  Whoever 
she  was,  and  whatever  the  cause  leading  to 
her  predicament,  her  personality  appealed 
oddly  to  me.  It  was  more  than  a  mere  haunt 
ing  recollections  of  her  face  —  a  vague  feeling 
we  had  met  before  —  it  was  the  woman  her 
self  which  appealed.  I  felt  that  she  was 
worthy;  that  she  possessed  character,  true 
womanhood.  I  had  been  brought  up  in  a 
rough  school  of  war,  and  had  met  few  of  gen 
tle  blood  whom  I  could  call  friends,  yet  I 
recognized  my  own  class  —  the  evidences  of 
good  birth.  She  was  no  peasant,  no  daugh- 

[38] 


/  MEET  THE  LADY 


ter  of  a  commissionaire,  in  some  obscure  vil 
lage.  The  purity  of  her  speech,  the  proud 
manner  in  which  she  parried  with  the  Eng 
lishman,  her  low,  modulated  voice,  all  con 
spired  to  make  her  disguise  of  clothing  the 
more  manifest 

I  watched  her  face  in  the  candlelight  as 
she  bent  above  the  opening  in  the  floor  and 
looked  down.  I  could  see  her  now  more 
clearly  than  when  she  had  been  below  —  a 
slender,  rounded  girl  of  twenty,  with  dark 
hair  and  eyes,  the  latter  shadowed  by  long 
lashes,  the  lips  arched,  the  skin  clear  and 
white,  the  contour  of  the  face  cleanly  outlined. 
My  heart  beat  faster  as  I  looked,  and  the  red 
blood  pulsed  in  my  veins.  Right  or  wrong, 
for  France  or  what  not,  it  was  not  in  my  na 
ture  to  leave  her  to  the  tender  mercy  of  such 
wolves  as  scoured  the  land.  Awlright  was 
but  biding  his  time,  and  making  sure  of  a  clear 
field,  to  prove  himself  a  beast:  and  as  to  Dorn 
—  I  shut  my  teeth  hard  at  memory  of  his  sar 
castic  grin,  and  waxed  moustache.  By  all 
the  gods!  they  should  never  boast  in  English 

[39] 


SHEA,  OF  THE  IRISH  BRIGADE 

camp  of  this  night's  play,  nor  hold  her  up  to 
laughter.  Not  until  they  won  over  my  sword 
point,  at  least.  It  was  a  vow  to  the  Virgin. 

The  door  below  opened  noisily,  and  several 
men  came  in,  their  swords  clanking  on  their 
spurs.  I  watched  her  draw  farther  back,  out 
of  the  direct  radius  of  light,  yet  remaining 
close  enough  to  the  opening,  to  gaze  down  at 
the  scene  as  though  fascinated.  I  felt  that  I 
could  imagine  what  she  saw  by  the  changing 
expression  of  her  face,  and  I  needed  this  guid 
ance,  for  the  men  were  speaking  German  in 
a  gruff  rumble  which  prevented  my  distin 
guishing  so  much  as  a  sentence,  except  as 
Awlright  occasionally  interjected  a  bit  of  vig 
orous  English. 

So  far  as  I  could  determine  the  captain 
knew  nothing  of  German,  but  apparently 
Dorn  spoke  it  with  fluency,  and  acted  there 
fore  as  interpreter.  I  had  no  difficulty  in  rec 
ognizing  his  nasal  voice  even  in  the  foreign 
tongue,  and,  between  his  explanations  and 
Awlright's  sharp  questioning,  I  made  shrewd 
guess  at  what  was  transpiring  below.  The 
[40] 


I  MEET  THE  LADY 


troop  was  not  Dutch,  but  Austrian,  and  had 
taken  the  wrong  road,  and  the  men  were  cross 
and  in  ill-humor  from  long  marching.  All 
they  desired  was  food  and  a  guide,  but  asked 
these  in  such  gruff  tone  of  command  as  to  an 
ger  both  Englishmen.  There  was  little  love, 
but  much  jealousy,  between  the  allies,  who, 
in  truth,  sincerely  hated  each  other,  and,  for 
a  moment,  I  actually  thought  the  fellows 
would  come  to  blows.  There  was  swearing 
a  plenty  in  three  languages,  but  the  guards 
men  finally  came  to  their  senses,  and  this  ex 
change  of  sentiment  quieted  down.  Beyond 
doubt  Awlright  realized  that  the  easiest  and 
quickest  way  to  be  rid  of  the  party  was  grace 
fully  to  accede  to  its  demands.  The  Austri- 
ans  must  have  outnumbered  his  force  two  to 
one,  and  were  in  a  mood  to  help  themselves. 
I  thought  Dorn  told  him  that  in  English,  for 
I  distinctly  heard  the  disgusted  reply  of  the 
still  irate  captain. 

"  By  Gad !  I  guess  you  're  right  —  it 's  the 
only  way  to  be  rid  of  the  swine.  A  battalion, 
you  say?  Let  them  forage  for  themselves 

[41] 


SHEA,  OF  THE  IRISH  BRIGADE 

then ;  ay!  anywhere  in  the.village  —  they  know 
the  trade.  I  '11  have  Saunders  attend  to  these, 
and  when  they  are  full  they  can  go  to  the 
devil  for  all  I  care.  Tell  them  so  in  their 
beastly  language.  A  guide?  yes  I  '11  give  them 
a  guide,  and  anything  else  that  will  help  to 
get  their  ugly  faces  out  of  my  sight." 

I  heard  Dorn  explaining  all  this,  in  more 
diplomatic  speech,  no  doubt,  and  with  many 
gutteral  questions  interrupting  him.  Then  the 
door  opened  and  closed,  while  chairs  and 
benches  scraped  on  the  floor,  and  sidearms 
rattled,  indicating  that  the  party  was  making 
itself  at  ease.  Awlright  called  to  the  trooper, 
who  came  forth  from  the  back  room,  and  re 
ceived  his  orders.  There  was  a  growl  of 
voices  in  conversation,  a  loud  laugh  over  some 
joke,  and  the  clink  of  glasses.  I  could  distin 
guish  one  fellow  making  effort  to  talk  French, 
probably  trying  his  accomplishment  on  the 
captain,  but  I  was  not  sufficiently  interested 
to  learn  the  result.  Enough  for  me  to  know 
they  were  all  busily  engaged  over  good  liq 
uor,  and  unsuspecting  of  any  concealment 

[42] 


I  MEET  THE  LADY 


above.  Awl  right  knew  where  his  prisoner  was 
hiding,  but  would  have  no  fear  of  her.  In 
deed,  his  very  knowledge  of  her  hiding  in  the 
loft  would  prevent  his  exhibiting  any  uneasi 
ness  which  might  arouse  the  suspicions  of  the 
others.  His  only  desire  was  to  feed  the  un 
welcome  callers,  and  get  them  on  their  road 
as  soon  as  possible. 

I  sat  up,  drawing  my  foot  forth  from  its 
imprisonment  beneath  the  ladder  noiselessly. 
The  girl,  intent  on  what  was  occurring  below, 
and  deeming  herself  utterly  alone,  remained 
unconscious  of  my  presence.  She  was  breath 
ing  quickly,  her  eyes  shaded  by  an  uplifted 
hand.  What  would  she  do  when  she  heard 
my  voice?  Would  the  sudden  alarm  startle 
her  into  an  exclamation?  I  hesitated  an  in 
stant,  and  yet  there  was  no  other  means  of 
approach.  If  I  should  move  forward,  unan 
nounced,  the  result  might  prove  even  more 
disastrous.  To  hear  something  unseen  stir 
ring  in  the  darkness  would  be  far  more  apt 
to  frighten  her  than  the  sound  of  a  friendly 
voice.  They  were  jabbering  away  below,  their 

[43] 


SHEA,  OF  THE  IRISH  BRIGADE 

tongues  already  loosened  by  wine,  while  the 
rattle  of  dishes  told  that  Saunders  was  busy 
at  the  table.  I  must  assume  the  risk,  and  trust 
to  the  discretion  of  the  lady  —  there  was  no 
other  choice. 

"  Mademoiselle,"  I  said  softly  in  French, 
"  do  not  cry  out,  or  be  frightened.  I  am  a 
friend." 

Her  head  was  uplifted,  her  face  turned 
toward  me  at  the  first  sound.  She  gave  one 
quick  gasp  of  astonishment,  and  I  could  mark 
the  effort  with  which  she  controlled  herself, 
as  she  stared  into  the  dark.  I  doubt  if  she 
could  even  perceive  my  dim  outlines  in  the 
gloom,  but  the  tone  of  my  voice  must  have 
given  courage. 

"Monsieur,  where  are  you?"  she  ques 
tioned,  the  words  trembling,  and  so  low  I 
barely  heard. 

"  Here,"  and  I  moved  slightly  to  where  the 
reflection  of  light  gave  her  a  dim  glimpse  of 
me.  "  I  was  indeed  afraid  I  might  frighten 
you,  but  you  are  brave." 

"No;  I  think  not  that,  Monsieur;  I  —  I 
[44] 


I  MEET  THE  LADY 


was  startled  at  first  —  yes.  But  there  is  more 
for  me  to  fear  down  there.  Tell  me  first  who 
are  you  —  a  Frenchman?" 

"  Not  by  birth,  yet  a  soldier  in  the  army  of 
France." 

"  Of  what  command,  Monsieur?  " 

"  Royal  Irlandais." 

I  could  perceive  the  slight  semblance  of  a 
smile  about  her  lips,  a  relaxation  of  expres 
sion  to  her  face. 

"  Oh,  an  Irishman,"  as  though  in  relief. 
"  That  is  what  I  caught  in  your  speech  —  the 
accent.  I  thought  maybe  you  deceived  me. 
But  now  I  know  how  it  is.  I  have  met  those 
of  the  Royal  Irlandais  —  the  Count  Dillon, 
the  Lord  Clare  —  "  . 

"You  have  met  those?"  I  asked,  it  being 
my  turn  to  express  astonishment.  "  How 
could  that  be,  Mademoiselle?  You  have  seen 
them?  heard  of  them,  perhaps?" 

"  Ay!  and  talked  with  them.  I  spoke  with 
out  thought,  Monsieur.  The  words  came  in 
gladness  when  I  learned  who  you  were.  But 
surely  there  is  no  harm  for  me  to  confess  I 

[45] 


SHEA,  OF  THE  IRISH  BRIGADE 

have  acquaintance  with  your  officers.     Why 
not?  " 

"  Because  I  overheard  your  conversation 
with  the  Englishman,  when  you  named  your 
self  Henrietta  Valois,  the  daughter  of  the 
Commissionaire  at  Cambrai." 

"  And  if  I  failed  to  tell  him  the  truth  is  it 
a  crime?  " 

"  No,"  I  hastened  to  say.  "  Indeed  I 
thought  it  unlikely.  You  did  not  seem  of  that 
rank  to  me." 

"For  which  I  thank  you,  Monsieur;  you 
thought  me  what  then?  " 

".A  gentlewoman,  none  else." 

"  Yet,  the  situation  puzzled  you,  no  doubt. 
And  I  cannot  judge  you,  for  I  can  barely  see 
your  outline.  The  advantage  is  all  yours. 
What  is  your  rank,  Monsieur?  " 

"  A  volunteer  lieutenant." 

"  Ah!  let  me  see;  I  have  heard  Lord  Clare 
explain  the  grade.  'T  is  if  I  mistake  not,  a 
position  of  honor  given  to  cadets  of  good  fam 
ily.  You  bear  a  name  then?  " 

"  Not  one  likely  to  mean  much  to  you,  Ma 
[46] 


/  MEET  THE  LADY 


demoiselle.  Let  me  draw  nearer  where  the 
light  give  you  glimpse  of  my  face.  I  am 
not  a  cutthroat,  nor  do  I  believe  I  look  like 
one  You  can  see  me  now?  My  name  is 
Arthur  Shea,  a  cadet  of  the  house  of  Ber 
wick." 

Our  eyes  met,  and  I  could  seem  to  read  in 
the  expression  of  her  own,  the  confidence  with 
which  she  regarded  me.  It  was  a  dim  light 
at  best  in  which  to  judge  character,  and  strange 
condition  amid  which  to  make  acquaintance, 
but  her  hesitancy  lasted  scarcely  a  moment. 
Impulsively  she  held  forth  her  hand. 

"  I  do  not  know  whether  you  are  young  or 
old,  Monsieur,"  she  said  slowly.  "  The  light 
baffles  my  eyes,  and  you  have  the  look  of  one 
who  has  passed  through  much  of  peril  and 
hardship." 

"  The  trials  of  war,"  I  answered  soberly. 
"  I  became  a  soldier  at  fifteen." 

"And  now?" 

"  I  am  twenty-seven ;  twelve  years  of  serv 
ice  ages  a  man." 

"  Yes,  I  know.  My  brother  is  a  soldier,  an 
[47] 


SHEA,  OF  THE  IRISH  BRIGADE 

officer  in  the  Regiment  du  Roi.  Yours,  I  take 
it,  will  be  the  regiment  of  Berwick?  " 

I  bowed,  surprised  at  her  knowledge  of  mil 
itary  affairs,  and  eager  enough  by  now  to  learn 
her  identity.  Yet  I  would  not  ask  the  ques 
tion,  although  it  trembled  on  my  lips.  In  spite 
of  her  effort  to  speak  freely,  the  lady  had  a 
proud  way  with  her  that  repelled  familiarity. 
If  she  wished  me  to  know,  the  truth  would  be 
told  in  its  own  time.  A  moment  she  remained 
silent,  her  glance  down  the  opening  into  the 
room  below,  and  then  back  to  my  face.  She 
seemed  in  doubt  what  to  do,  and  in  the  silence 
I  could  hear  the  gruff  voices  of  the  Austrians, 
one  of  them  making  an  attempt  to  sing  a 
sentimental  ditty. 

"  You  do  not  recognize  me,  Monsieur?  " 

"No;  I  confess  your  face  haunts  me  with 
its  strange  familiarity.  I  may  have  seen  you 
at  some  time,  although  I  am  sure  we  have 
never  met." 

"Tis  not  likely;  the  Irish  Brigade  has 
seldom  been  at  Paris." 

"  But  twice  during  my  service,  and  then 
[48] 


/  MEET  THE  LADY 


merely  in  garrison  for  a  week  to  be  reviewed 
by  the  King." 

"  I  remember;  and  you  yourself?  " 

"  I  bore  message  once  from  the  Nether 
lands,  a  dispatch  of  some  import,"  I  explained, 
"  and  was  given  royal  audience  that  I  might 
be  questioned  for  details.  'T  was  my  fortune 
later  to  do  a  service  to  the  King." 

"  At  Casse  de  Fer,  Monsieur?  " 

"Yes  — you  heard?" 

"  The  tale  was  told  about  Paris.  Louis  him 
self  made  much  of  the  matter.  So  I  know 
you  now,  Monsieur,  and  can  trust  you.  I  am 
Camille  d'Enville." 


[49] 


CHAPTER  V 

A  MUTUAL  UNDERSTANDING 

I  FELT  as  if  she  had  struck  me  in  the  face. 
For  the  moment  my  heart  seemed  to  stop 
its  beating,  and  yet  I  doubt  if  I  moved  a  mus 
cle,  or  if  the  expression  of  my  face  changed. 
In  that  moment  the  whole  situation  flashed 
across  my  mind.  Camille  d'Enville!  Ay! 
that  was  it.  It  was  her  brother  I  had  killed 
back  in  the  camp  yonder  —  ran  him  through 
in  quarrel  over  the  gaming  table!  Of  course, 
I  remembered  now,  the  man  was  an  officer  of 
the  Regiment  du  Roi,  serving  on  Saxe's  staff. 
And  it  was  memory  of  his  face  which  had 
haunted  me  —  why,  now  I  could  trace  the  re 
semblance,  the  dark  glow  of  the  eyes,  the  smile 
of  the  mouth,  the  peculiarity  of  manner.  Yes, 
it  was  all  plain  enough  —  Camille  d'Enville! 
I  tried  to  remember  what  I  had  heard  of  her. 
There  were  scraps  of  camp  gossip  that  had 
found  lodgment  in  my  mind  —  rumors  of  pre- 
[50] 


A  MUTUAL  UNDERSTANDING 

ferment,  of  kingly  favor.  My  brain  grasped 
vaguely  at  these,  piecing  them  together.  Af 
ter  all  it  was  little  enough  —  the  d'Envilles 
were  from  Chalons.  I  remembered  that  well, 
for  once  we  had  marched  the  road  from  Or 
leans  into  Luxemburg,  and  Berwick  had 
pointed  out  the  place,  a  great  gray  castle 
crowning  a  hill  to  the  left  as  we  passed.  The 
old  marquis  was  living  there  then  alone,  and 
Berwick  told  of  having  served  with  him  in 
Italy,  and  of  how  the  younger  d'Enville  had 
found  favor  with  the  king,  and  his  sister  had 
been  appointed  to  a  position  of  honor  at  the 
court.  And  her  name  had  been  spoken  again 
in  my  presence  at  Paris.  What  was  said,  and 
who  said  it,  I  hardly  knew,  a  mere  rumor  that 
Louis  would  marry  her  to  the  Duke  de  Saule, 
the  colonel  of  his  guard,  and  that  the  lady  had 
laughed  in  his  face,  and  declined  the  honor, 
with  some  word  of  witty  response  which  had 
made  the  king  laugh  in  spite  of  his  anger. 
'Twas  told  then  she  had  been  sent  back  to 
Chalons  in  disgrace,  and  d'Enville  ordered  to 
his  regiment.  I  could  not  recall  what  it  was 


SHEA,  OF  THE  IRISH  BRIGADE 

she  had  said,  but  I  had  seen  the  Duke  de  Saule, 
a  pompous  man  of  much  flesh,  with  sour,  sol 
emn  face,  and  the  sting  of  the  retort  gave  me 
a  hearty  laugh. 

And  this  girl,  hiding  here  beside  me  in  the 
loft  of  this  old  tavern,  a  prisoner  facing  in 
sult,  claiming  to  be  the  humble  daughter 
of  a  Commissionaire,  seeking  her  sick  father, 
was  Camille  d'Enville.  It  was  difficult  for 
me  to  realize  the  truth,  thus  swiftly  to  ad 
just  my  mind  to  these  new  conditions.  A 
vastly  different  problem  confronted  me  now  in 
the  presence  of  this  gentlewoman,  this  court 
beauty,  than  had  she  been  the  humble  crea 
ture  she  had  claimed  to  be  before  the  captain. 
I  cannot  truly  say  my  interest  in  her  safety,  her 
escape,  was  greater,  or  that  this  discovery  of 
her  identity  increased  the  depth  of  my  admi 
ration.  Rather  it  added  responsibility,  for 
surely  she  was  never  in  such  a  situation  as  this 
without  grave  cause.  Beyond  doubt  it  was 
the  king's  service  which  had  led  to  that  lonely 
night  ride,  and  her  desperate  attempt  at  eva 
sion.  Otherwise  —  if  there  was  nothing  to 

[52] 


A  MUTUAL  UNDERSTANDING 

conceal  —  she  would  have  told  Awlright  her 
name  and  rank,  and  demanded  her  release. 
Reckless  as  the  fellow  was  he  would  hesitate 
to  offer  insult  to  such  as  she,  or  even  hold  her 
prisoner  without  good  cause.  I  must  know 
the  whole  truth  if  I  was  to  serve  her,  to  venture 
my  very  life  in  her  defense;  she  must  tell  me 
the  facts. 

"  You  are  Mademoiselle  d'Enville?  "  I 
asked,  as  though  in  doubt,  "  the  daughter  of 
the  Marquis  at  Chalons?" 

"Yes,  Monsieur;  you  know  of  me  then?" 
and  her  eyes  were  uplifted  to  my  face.  "  I 
could  scarcely  hope  for  recognition." 

"  I  was  in  Paris,  you  remember,  at  a  time 
when  it  was  rumored  you  had  displeased  his 
Majesty,  and  won  banishment." 

There  were  dimples  in  either  cheek  as  she 
smiled. 

"  Oh,  and  you  would  mean  the  affair  of  de 
Saule,  Monsieur?  'Twas  not  serious:  the 
king's  anger  lasted  scarce  a  fortnight.  True,  it 
cost  me  a  journey  to  Marne  at  a  bad  season, 
but  he  was  scarce  better  off.  Three  messen- 
[53] 


SHEA,  OF  THE  IRISH  BRIGADE 

gers  came  before  I  returned  —  the  last  bore  a 
letter  in  Louis'  own  hand." 

"  You  are  back  in  court  then,  and  in  full 
favor?" 

"  I  was,  Monsieur,"  with  a  swift  glance 
about  and  below,  and  a  shrug  at  the  shoulders, 
"  but  't  is  hardly  so  now." 

"  Yet  there  is  surely  a  reason,  Mademoi 
selle,"  I  made  haste  to  insist.  "  Why  I  find 
you  in  this  sad  stress.  You  can  trust  me  —  my 
discretion,  my  loyalty." 

"  Would  I  have  told  you  my  name  if  uncon 
vinced?  I  must  tell  you  all,  and  implore 
your  service.  I  bear  a  message  from  Paris, 
so  important  they  dare  not  intrust  it  to  a  sol 
dier.  I  overheard  the  plans,  and  volunteered 
to  bear  it.  'Twas  a  wild  project,  no  doubt, 
yet  they  saw  no  better  way,  and  consented.  I 
was  given  a  guide  —  a  man  who  knew  every 
bridle-path  —  and,  but  for  an  accident  to  one 
of  the  horses,  Monsieur,  we  would  have  been 
safely  through  the  lines  of  the  allies  last  night. 
We  were  compelled  to  stop  at  this  tavern  to 
obtain  a  fresh  mount,  and  there  was  a  traitor 

[54] 


A  MUTUAL  UNDERSTANDING 

in  the  village.  I  know  not  how  it  occurred, 
but  suddenly  the  English  came.  There  was 
fighting,  and  my  guide,  La  Barge,  killed.  He 
died  to  permit  my  escape,  but  I  was  helpless, 
my  horse  wounded,  and,  with  small  knowl 
edge  of  the  roads,  I  rode  straight  until  my 
horse  fell,  and  was  then  made  prisoner.  At 
first  I  would  not  speak,  or  say  who  I  was,  or 
why  I  was  abroad.  It  was  the  Lientenant  Dorn 
who  brought  me  back  here,  and  he  hesitated  to 
search  me  because  I  treated  him  with  such 
contempt.  But  his  captain  was  of  another 
kind  —  " 

"  Did  he  dare  to  rob  you?  " 

"  No,  Monsieur,  not  yet,  but  he  will.  He 
sought  other  means  first,  but  when  they  fail 
he  will  be  brute  enough.  I  have  parried  with 
him  thus  far,  but  he  knows  my  tale  is  false. 
Only  the  coming  of  the  Austrians  saved  me 
from  rudeness.  The  man  was  losing  his  tem 
per,  and  has  little  of  the  gentleman,  if  he  be  a 
noble  as  he  claims.  His  way  is  the  way  of 
camps." 

"  And  you  will  meet  him  —  how?  " 
[55] 


SHEA,  OF  THE  IRISH  BRIGADE 

"  I  knew  not  a  moment  ago.  I  was  in  des 
peration,  but  I  fear  the  man  no  longer.  Here, 
Monsieur,  take  this." 

I  think  she  extracted  the  paper  from  her 
shoe,  but  it  was  accomplished  so  quickly  in 
the  darkness  that  I  could  not  be  sure.  My 
hand  held  it,  and  I  could  feel  the  wax  of  the 
seal. 

"I?    You  give  it  into  my  care?  " 

"  Why  not?  Are  you  not  Arthur  Shea,  of 
Berwick's  Regiment.  Do  you  not  see  what 
will  happen,  Monsieur,  when  those  Austrians 
go!  The  Englishmen  will  order  me  down: 
but  they  will  never  know  you  are  here." 

"  Yes;  there  is  a  chance  if  I  remain  quiet," 
I  admitted,  "  that  I  get  away  free.  But  what 
will  become  of  you?" 

"  Of  me?  "  indifferently.  "  Why  nothing 
much,  I  think,  Monsieur.  It  matters  not,  for 
they  will  find  no  paper;  perchance  I  may  be 
taken  to  their  Duke  of  Cumberland.  That 
will  be  no  great  harm.  Voila  I  he  will  not  burn 
me  alive! " 

"No;  they  say  he  is  stern,  but  just.  Tis 
[56] 


A  MUTUAL  UNDERSTANDING 

not  Cumberland  you  have  to  fear,  but  these 
Guardsmen.  I  like  neither  of  them  overmuch 
—  the  one  a  bully,  and  the  other  a  sneak.  The 
plan  is  not  to  my  liking!  " 

She  leaned  forward,  and  I  felt  the  touch  of 
her  hand  on  my  arm. 

"  I  like  you  better  for  saying  that,"  she 
said  softly,  "  but  you  must  do  as  I  say  —  it  is 
for  the  king." 

"  And  I  am  to  leave  you  here  alone  to  the 
tender  mercies  of  these  devils?  " 

"Yes,  Monsieur;  there  is  no  other  way, 
and,  besides,  I  do  not  count  for  so  much.  I 
am  but  a  woman  of  France,  and  there  is  so 
little  we  can  do.  You  must  not  think  of  me, 
Monsieur;  you  are  a  soldier,  and  will  do 
your  duty.  Pledge  me  to  deliver  the  dis 
patch." 

"To  whom?" 

"  The  king,  or  failing  him,  Saxe." 

There  was  a  moment  of  hesitation,  her  eyes 
on  my  face,  her  hand  grasping  my  sleeve.  I 
was  not  afraid,  although  the  case  was  des 
perate  enough.  To  venture  back  into  the 

[57] 


SHEA,  OF  THE  IRISH  BRIGADE 

French  lines  meant  my  arrest,  trial,  and  prob 
able  conviction.  Yet  I  could  not  refuse  her 
—  d'Enville's  sister. 

"  You  will  go,  Monsieur?  " 

"  Yes,"  I  answered,  placing  the  paper  in  an 
inside  pocket  of  my  blouse.  "  I  was  thinking 
what  you  had  better  do." 

Her  face  brightened. 

"  Why  waste  thought  on  me?  I  am  not 
afraid,  now  that  the  paper  is  safe  and  if 
necessary  I  shall  tell  the  Englishmen  just 
who  I  am." 

"  And  you  believe  that  will  protect  you?  " 

"  Will  it  not,  Monsieur?  " 

"  I  wish  I  knew,"  I  answered  soberly,  "  for 
then  I  could  determine  my  own  duty.  We  are 
a  rough  lot  in  the  army,  Mademoiselle,  when 
on  campaign.  You  have  met  soldiers  in  Paris, 
but  they  are  not  the  same  in  the  camps,  where 
women  are  playthings.  I  like  not  the  man 
ner  of  either  of  those  fellows  below.  'T  is 
my  idea  they  will  make  sport  of  your  claim. 
You  are  armed?  " 

"  A  small  pistol." 

[58] 


A  MUTUAL  UNDERSTANDING 

"  Then  have  the  explanation  below  while 
I  can  overhear.  Not  even  for  the  king  will 
I  leave  you  alone  in  such  hands." 
/  "  But,  Monsieur,  it  is  not  I ;  it  is  the  cause 
of  France,"  she  pleaded.  "  I  have  your 
pledge  as  a  soldier." 

"  A  pledge  I  shall  keep  to  the  uttermost, 
Mademoiselle  d'Enville.  It  will  cost  more 
than  you  dream,  but  will  be  kept;  yet  if  I  am 
a  soldier  I  lay  claim  also  to  being  a  gentleman 
—  I  cannot  leave  you  unprotected  in  the  claws 
of  these  wolves." 

Her  eyes  were  on  mine  thoughtfully,  seek 
ing  to  gauge  my  resolution. 

"  You  insist  I  tell  them  my  name  and  rank? 
that  I  demand  release?  " 

"  Yes,  and  an  escort  to  Douai." 

"  You  think  it  will  be  refused?  " 

"  I  do  not  know,  Mademoiselle,  but  I  sus 
picion  the  character  of  the  English  captain." 

"  And  if  he  be  obdurate?  " 

"  I  must  be  free  to  act  in  any  way  that  will 
best  serve  you;  I  was  a  man  before  I  was  a 
soldier." 

[59] 


SHEA,  OF  THE  IRISH  BRIGADE 

I  thought  she  was  not  going  to  answer  she 
was  silent  so  long.  I  could  hear  the  faint 
sound  of  her  breathing  between  the  discord  of 
the  noises  from  below.  They  were  drinking 
hard,  and  ever  pounding  the  table  with  their 
glasses  to  summon  Saunders  to  bring  more,  and 
talking  with  loosened  tongues.  She  sat  on  the 
straw  facing  me,  apparently  unmindful  of  the 
din,  her  whole  attention  concentrated  on  my 
meaning.  Suddenly  she  outstretched  both 
hands. 

"I  —  I  thank  you,  Monsieur,"  she  said 
brokenly.  "  I  am  not  ungrateful :  do  not  think 
that.  But  you  will  learn  I  can  protect  myself 
—  the  Englishman  will  not  dare  touch  me." 
She  paused,  as  though  hesitating  to  ask  the 
question.  "  But  I  cannot  help  wondering  how 
does  it  happen  you  are  here,  Monsieur? 
Surely  it  will  be  miles  to  the  French  lines, 
and  the  roads  patrolled.  Were  you  upon  a 
scout?" 

I  wet  my  lips,  mustering  courage  for  a 
falsehood.  She  would  surely  learn  the  truth 
sometime,  but  not  now.  Let  it  be  told  her 
[60] 


A  MUTUAL  UNDERSTANDING 

by  other  lips,  after  I  had  paid  the  penalty. 
If  I  confessed  the  duel  with  her  brother  she 
would  refuse  me  her  trust,  would  turn  from 
me  in  despair,  and  leave  me  helpless  to  assist. 
Better  evasion  than  that,  hard  as  I  found  it. 
I  felt  the  perspiration  bead  my  forehead,  and 
my  eyes  wandered  from  her  dimly  revealed 
face  to  the  opening  in  the  floor.  I  could 
scarcely  muster  the  words  of  explanation  to 
my  lips. 

"Yes,  Mademoiselle,  I  am  on  scout — ah! 
be  quiet  now!  the  Austrians  are  going." 


[61] 


CHAPTER  VI 

THE  MERCY  OF  THE  CAPTAIN 

THE  bustle  below,  the  scraping  of  chairs 
as  the  men  arose  from  the  table,  were 
a  relief  to  me.  Action  was  to  follow,  and  I 
was  ever  better  at  that  than  words  —  my  mind 
clearing  instantly,  and  every  instinct  awaken 
ing  to  new  life.  I  felt  the  clasp  of  her  hands 
tighten,  and  had  no  wish  to  loosen  them.  Let 
her  trust  me  while  she  could;  there  would 
come  a  time  when  she  might  justly  hate  my 
memory.  But  now  I  felt  the  very  touch  of 
her  increase  my  resolution.  Without  causing 
a  sound  in  the  loose  straw  I  moved  myself 
forward  just  far  enough  to  gain  glimpse  of 
the  scene  beneath.  They  were  already  on 
their  feet,  departing  as  I  thought,  exhibiting 
many  a  sign  of  the  liquor  drank.  Nor  were 
Awlright  and  Dorn  in  much  better  condition 
than  their  guests.  I  could  not  see  the  lieu 
tenant,  but  clearly  heard  his  disagreeable 
voice  uttering  incoherent  speeches  of  farewell. 

[62] 


THE  MERCY  OF  THE  CAPTAIN 

The  captain  stood  just  below  us,  gripping 
the  table  for  support  with  one  hand,  his  other 
arm  flung  about  the  neck  of  a  red-faced  Aus 
trian.  The  one  was  talking  English,  the  other 
German.  At  last  the  white  uniform  tore  itself 
loose,  and  Awlright  sank  back  into  his  chair, 
and  kept  repeating,  "  Shee  you  tomorrow; 
shee  you  tomorrow,"  over  and  over,  until  the 
last  Austrian  had  staggered  out  through  the 
open  door.  Then  the  two  guardsmen  sat  star 
ing  silently  at  each  other  across  the  sloppy 
table. 

Without  were  loud  voices  drunkenly  giving 
orders,  a  sound  of  movement,  and,  soon  after, 
the  noise  of  departing  horses.  Someone 
shouted  a  derisive  word,  and,  as  though  sud 
denly  aroused,  the  English  commander 
straightened  up,  and  his  semblance  to  drunken 
stupor  departed  instantly.  He  cast  a  glance 
upward  toward  where  we  crouched,  then 
about  the  rough  apartment.  The  sight  of  his 
face  told  me  the  man  had  drank  just  enough 
to  be  in  evil  mood.  Dorn's  head  had  fallen 
forward  and  was  pillowed  on  his  arm.  Awl- 
[63] 


SHEA,  OF  THE  IRISH  BRIGADE 

right  looked  at  him  sneeringly,  shook  him 
once,  but  received  no  response.  Saunders 
was  stirring  up  the  fire,  and  the  slight  noise 
attracted  the  captain's  attention. 

"  Saunders." 

"Yes,  sir."  The  soldier  stood  stiffly  at 
attention. 

"  Help  Lieutenant  Dorn  into  the  other 
room,  and  fix  him  a  place  to  sleep  on  the 
floor.  Then  you  may  go." 

"  Yes,  sir;  for  the  night,  sir?  " 

"  Of  course!  What  are  you  standing  there 
like  a  fool  for?  Come!  hurry  up,  and  get 
out." 

The  man,  a  short,  slender  fellow,  managed 
to  make  the  befuddled  lieutenant  help  him 
self,  although  he  fell  heavily  twice  before 
they  disappeared  through  the  rear  door.  Awl- 
right  laughed,  stroking  his  moustache,  but 
making  no  offer  to  assist.  Nor  did  he  move 
when  the  trooper  came  back. 

"  Is  that  all,  sir?  " 

"Yes,  curse  you!"  savagely.  "Shut  the 
door  after  you,  and  tell  Weber  we  march  at 

[64] 


THE  MERCY  OF  THE  CAPTAIN 

sunrise.  Do  n't  stand  there  staring  at  me.  Do 
you  think  I  'm  drunk?  " 

"  No,  sir." 

"  Never  saw  me  drunk,  did  you,  Saunders? 
No,  and  you  never  will,  my  man.  I  'm  not 
that  kind  of  a  fool." 

The  soldier  closed  the  door  and  all  was 
silent  except  the  crackle  of  burning  wood  in 
the  fire-place.  Awlright  remained  motionless, 
his  head  bent  forward  so  as  to  conceal  his  face. 
Two  candles,  half  consumed,  fluttered  and 
smoked  on  the  table,  dimly  illuminating  the 
disordered  apartment.  The  captain's  belt  and 
sword  lay  on  the  floor,  and  he  touched  them 
with  some  movement  of  the  foot  causing  the 
metal  to  rattle.  The  slight  noise  aroused  the 
man  to  reach  down  and  pick  them  up.  As 
though  scarcely  realizing  what  he  did  he 
buckled  the  belt  about  his  waist,  reached  over 
for  the  nearly  empty  bottle,  and  drank  again, 
smacking  his  lips  with  satisfaction.  Then  he 
looked  up  toward  where  we  crouched  beyond 
his  view. 

"  Come  on  down  you  —  you  —  what 's  the 
[65] 


SHEA,  OF  THE  IRISH  BRIGADE 

name?  Oh  yes  —  Mademoiselle  Valois,"  he 
said,  endeavoring  to  make  his  voice  confiden 
tial.  "  Come  on  down,  an'  —  an'  we  '11  talk 
the  matter  over.  Come  on  —  blasted  Austri- 
ans  all  gone." 

I  felt  her  hand  on  mine,  gripping  tightly, 
as  though  the  clasp  was  a  question.  The 
drunken  condition  of  the  man,  his  evident 
purpose  in  thus  disposing  of  witnesses,  gave 
me  an  instant  of  doubt.  Yet  there  was  no 
other  way  but  for  her  to  return  below,  and 
face  him  fairly.  The  man  knew  she  was  there, 
and  if  she  refused  to  obey,  he  had  only  to  call 
his  men  to  drag  her  out  by  force.  This  would 
likely  lead  to  my  own  discovery,  and  ruin 
everything.  Besides,  we  could  deal  far  more 
easily  alone  with  this  drunken  brute  than  con 
fronted  by  his  whole  command. 

"  Say!  you  girl  up  there,"  he  cried  again, 
a  touch  of  anger  in  his  voice  at  the  delay 
in  her  appearing. 

"  Put  down  the  ladder  —  Lord  I  you  do  n't 
need  to  be  afraid  of  me!  " 

"  Yes,"  I  whispered.  "  You  will  have  to 
[66] 


THE  MERCY  OF  THE  CAPTAIN 

take  the  chance :  there  is  no  other  way.  Here, 
I  '11  help  you." 

The  ladder  was  light,  and  easily  managed 
between  us.  As  its  end  neared  the  floor,  the 
impatient  Englishman  grasped  the  rungs,  and 
stood  there  staring  up  at  the  black  hole 
through  which  it  protruded.  The  smile  on 
his  lips  was  unpleasant,  as  he  exclaimed,  , 

"  Well,  what  are  you  waiting  for  now?  " 

"  For  you  to  step  aside,  Monsieur  Captain," 
she  answered  in  a  voice  without  tremor.  "  I 
prefer  to  descend  unaided." 

He  gave  utterance  to  a  muffled  oath,  yet 
stepped  back  against  the  table.  Her  hand 
pressed  mine  significantly. 

"  Good-by  Monsieur,"  she  whispered  softly. 
"  Do  not  fear  for  me;  guard  the  dispatch." 
Then  carefully  grasping  her  skirts  with  one 
hand,  she  descended  the  creaking  ladder 
until  she  stood  securely  on  the  floor,  and 
turned  her  face  toward  him.  I  bent  lower  so 
that  I  might  see  clearly,  confident  the  eyes  of 
the  man  would  not  be  turned  upward.  If 
the  lady  experienced  any  feeling  of  fear  there 

[67] 


SHEA,  OF  THE  IRISH  BRIGADE 

was  no  manifestation  of  it  in  either  face  or 
manner.  She  stood  erect,  gazing  straight  at 
him,  one  hand  still  grasping  the  ladder,  the 
light  of  the  candle  full  upon  her.  Her  atti 
tude  betokened  neither  doubt  nor  indigna 
tion;  it  was  rather  expressive  of  indifferent 
disdain.  Awlright,  his  mouth  half  open, 
hesitated  to  utter  the  words  of  banter  upon 
his  lips,  his  mood  changing  from  drunken 
insolence  to  anger.  As  she  stood  there  silent, 
looking  directly  at  him,  he  lost  all  control. 

"  Do  n't  try  your  fine  lady  on  me,  you 
wench,"  he  growled  threateningly,  "  or  I  '11 
teach  you  a  lesson.  You  're  not  the  first  woman 
I  Ve  had  to  tame ;  nor  are  you  likely  to  be  the 
last.  Come  over  here." 

"  I  prefer  to  remain  where  I  am,"  she  re 
plied  coldly,  her  fingers  tightening  their  hold 
on  the  wood,  but  with  no  other  sign  of  nervous 
ness.  "  And  I  advise  you  to  do  likewise." 

"Oh,  hoi  And  so  you  threaten  me,  do 
you!"  he  laughed.  "And  of  course,  I  am 
afraid.  Whyl  you  little  fool,  I  could  crush 
you  with  one  hand  —  see!"  and  he  extended 

[68] 


THE  MERCY  OF  THE  CAPTAIN 

a  huge  fist,  opening  and  closing  the  fingers 
suggestively.  "  Suppose  I  took  your  neck  like 
that;  Bah!  and  who  would  know,  or  care?" 

She  made  no  movement;  there  was  no 
change  of  expression,  her  eyes  frankly  meeting 
his. 

"  Captain  Awlright,"  she  said  steadily,  her 
voice  clear.  "  It  is  useless  for  you  to  try 
frightening  me.  I  am  a  woman,  but  not  that 
kind.  You  have  the  strength,  of  course,  but 
it  will  never  serve  you  in  my  case." 

"  And  why  not?  "  insolently. 

"  Because,"  the  very  quietness  of  her  tone 
bringing  conviction.  "  If  you  attempt  to  lay 
hand  on  me  I  shall  kill  you  —  do  you  under 
stand?" 

"  You  little  vixen  I  Do  you  think  you  can 
kill  me  with  your  eyes?  I  'm  too  old  a  bird 
to  be  caught  so  easily."  He  paused.  "  And 
besides,  you  were  searched !  " 

"  I  was  not." 

"Then  Dorn  lied  to  me!  By  heaven,  I 
believe  you  were;  that  you  are  working  some 
game.  I  '11  call  your  hand  my  fine  lady!  " 

[69] 


SHEA,  OF  THE  IRISH  BRIGADE 

11  All  you  need  do  is  to  try  me  and  see.  Take 
another  step,  Monsieur,  and  I  will  show  you. 
What  is  that?  Your  men?  I  would  face  them 
now  more  willingly  than  you  alone;  and  as 
for  that  sneaking  fox  of  a  lieutenant,  he  can 
bark,  but  not  bite.  Now  listen,  Monsieur  —  I 
have  spoken  falsely  to  you  once,  but  not  now. 
If  you  touch  me  you  die  —  I  swear  it.  Hear 
what  I  say.  You  think  me  a  defenseless 
woman,  the  obscure  daughter  of  a  Commis 
sionaire  with  whom  you  can  do  as  you  please. 
I  told  you  that  when  you  were  sober  and  in 
command  of  your  men." 

"  I  'm  sober  enough  now." 

"Ay!  you  can  stand  and  walk,  but  your 
brain  is  maddened  with  drink.  I  saw  and 
heard,  and  I  knew  what  you  would  attempt. 
And  I  made  up  my  own  mind  how  to  meet 
you.  I  told  you  a  false  tale;  I  am  not  Henri- 
ette  Valois,  but  a  lady  of  France,  a  friend  of 
Louis.  If  you  touch  me  with  insult  there 
are  those  who  will  sheathe  their  swords  in 
your  body  though  it  cost  them  their  lives. 
That  is  the  truth." 

[70] 


THE  MERCY  OF  THE  CAPTAIN 

Had  the  man  been  sober  he  would  have 
believed,  her  words  were  spoken  so  directly, 
with  such  conviction,  as  to  have  left  no  doubt. 
Even  as  it  was  the  fellow  hesitated,  unable 
for  a  moment  to  decide  what  to  say.  Then 
the  thought  came  into  his  muddled  brain  that 
this  was  all  a  trick,  a  bit  of  womanly  wit. 
The  idea  tickled  him,  and  he  laughed  half 
angrily. 

"  A  fine  story,  but  not  to  be  believed,"  he 
insisted.  "  Nor  am  I  afraid  of  all  the  French 
swords  that  would  be  drawn  for  you,  my 
beauty.  Pshaw!  I've  fronted  them  these 
twenty  years.  So  let 's  have  done  with  such 
talk.  And  you  're  not  Henrietta  Valois? 
Well,  I  never  thought  you  was.  Maybe  you  '11 
name  yourself." 

"  I  am  Camille  d'Enville." 

"  Oh  ho !  you  aim  high !  "  Prithee !  but 't  is 
some  jump  from  where  you  started.  Why 
not  be  the  queen  herself?  —  't  would  be  just  as 
easy.  So  you  are  the  beauty  of  Louis'  court, 
hey?  Well,  I  confess  your  looks  might  bear 
you  out  Faith,  't  will  be  a  joke  to  tell  of  this. 


SHEA,  OF  THE  IRISH  BRIGADE 

And  how  happens  it  you  are  here,  Made 
moiselle  Camille  d'Enville?  The  Court,  I 
take  it,  is  still  at  Paris." 

"  Louis  is  at  Charleroi,"  she  answered 
calmly,  ignoring  his  rough  jesting,  "  or  was 
two  days  since.  There  are  ladies  of  the  court 
in  camp  with  him,  and  it  is  not  strange  that 
I  should  join  them." 

"  Alone,  through  the  lines  of  the  enemy?  " 
"  Not  alone ;  I  traveled  with  escort,  Mon 
sieur.    An  accident  separated  us.    Nor  should 
I  have  been  alone  in  the  French  camp,  for  my 
brother  is  on  Saxe's  staff." 

"The  young  Chevalier  d'Enville?" 
She  bowed  gravely. 

"  The  name  then  is  not  unknown  to  you?  " 
"  Ay!  I  Ve  been  told  of  him  before;  we  met 
once  at  Ostend  —  a  wild  young  blade  he  was 
then,  but  he  has  shown  some  stern  stuff  since. 
I  might  not  recall  the  lad  had  I  not  heard  his 
name  spoken  again  this  same  night." 

"His  name?  how?  in  what  connection?" 

"  Why,  let  me  see.    ?T  was  mayhap  an  hour 

before  we  ran  against  you  and  your  friend, 

[72] 


THE  MERCY  OF  THE  CAPTAIN 

that  we  exchanged  shots  with  a  French  scout 
ing  party.  'T  was  no  affair  of  consequence,  a 
bit  of  blind  firing  in  the  dark,  neither  party 
knowing  the  strength  of  the  other.  However, 
the  Frenchmen  wheeled  their  horses  and  rode 
off,  leaving  one  man  behind  for  dead.  Our 
sergeant  found  him  still  living,  a  soldier  of 
the  Regiment  of  Normandy,  and  before  he 
died,  he  said  the  squad  was  out  in  search  after 
a  fugitive  who  had  killed  an  officer  of  the 
Regiment  du  Roi." 

She  stood  with  parted  lips,  and  bloodless 
cheeks,  listening,  all  pretense  at  indifference 
gone, 

"The  Regiment  du  Roi,  Monsieur!  And 
he  named  the  officer?  " 

"  Captain  d'Enville." 

There  was  silence,  so  deep  and  still  I  could 
hear  the  breathing  of  the  two,  and  the  crack 
ling  of  the  flames.  Her  head  sank  upon  her 
hands  where  they  grasped  the  support  of  the 
ladder.  For  the  moment  the  girl  had  for 
gotten  where  she  was,  the  very  presence  of 
the  man.  I  was  trembling  from  head  to  foot, 

[73] 


SHEA,  OF  THE  IRISH  BRIGADE 

every  nerve  throbbing,  but  my  eye  remained 
riveted  on  the  face  of  Awlright.  His  expres 
sion  told  me  he  believed  she  but  acted  a  part, 
was  attempting  to  play  out  the  character  she 
had  assumed. 

"He  was  killed,  Monsieur?"  she  ques 
tioned  at  last.  "  You  are  sure  the  soldier  said 
he  was  killed?  " 

"  So  the  sergeant  reported.  I  did  not  see 
the  fellow.  It  was  a  messroom  fight  over  the 
cards,  and  d'Enville  fell,  run  through  by  his 
opponent's  sword.  'T  is  a  story  common 
enough,  so  I  gave  it  small  thought." 

"  And  the  man  who  killed  him?  You  heard 
his  name  also?  " 

Awlright  paused  in  an  attempt  to  remember. 

"  'T  is  not  in  my  memory  now  that  the  ser 
geant  spoke  his  name  —  only  that  he  was  an 
officer  of  the  Irish  Brigade:  oh,  yes,  the  Regi 
ment  of  Berwick." 

She  gave  utterance  to  a  quick  sob,  but  I 

had  no  thought  at  the  moment  except  for  the 

Englishman.    There  was  no  sympathy  in  his 

face,  no  faith  in  the  truth  of  her  emotion. 

[74] 


THE  MERCY  OF  THE  CAPTAIN 

Into  his  drunken  brain  only  one  conception 
found  entrance  —  she  was  trying  to  make  a 
fool  out  of  him.  Well,  he  was  too  wise  a  bird 
to  be  caught,  and  now  was  his  time,  when 
she  was  off  her  guard.  I  saw  him  move  for 
ward,  cautiously,  silently.  Then  he  sprang, 
and  caught  her  in  his  arms,  one  hand  over 
her  mouth,  to  shut  off  alarm,  the  other  grip 
ping  her  slender  figure  as  in  a  vise.  There 
was  a  struggle,  short,  useless,  a  gurgling 
sound  as  though  she  strangled,  and  then  he 
flung  her  helplessly  back  against  the  table. 
The  shock,  the  rough  handling  dislodged  her 
pistol,  which  fell  to  the  floor.  Awl  right  kicked 
it  aside  contemptuously,  grasping  her  wrists, 
and  staring  down  into  her  upturned  face. 

"  How  now,  my  beauty! "  he  laughed  half 
savagely.  "  Think  you  there  are  any  French 
swords  here  now  with  which  to  frighten  me? 
Come,  I  beseech  a  kiss,  fair  lady.  No!  then 
I  take  it,  whether  you  will,  or  not." 


[75 


CHAPTER  VII 

I  FIGHT  THE  CAPTAIN 

IT  WAS  no  time  for  hesitancy  or  question 
ing.  Whatever  the  dispatch  might  contain 
which  had  been  given  me  to  guard,  my  para 
mount  duty  now  was  the  defense  of  this 
woman,  struggling  just  below,  in  the  grip  of 
that  drunken  brute.  There  was  no  hope  of 
descending  through  that  narrow  opening 
unobserved,  and  yet  I  realized  instantly  the 
importance  of  swift,  sure  movement.  There 
must  be  in  our  encounter  no  firing,  no  loud 
clash  of  steel  if  I  hoped  for  escape.  The  en 
campment  of  guards  was  not  far  away;  there 
might,  indeed,  be  a  sentinel  posted  just  with 
out  the  door,  and  the  lieutenant  lay  in  the  rear 
room  —  stupefied  by  drink  to  be  sure,  yet  pos 
sibly  to  be  aroused  by  sounds  of  conflict. 
Awlright  was  a  larger  man  than  I,  a  big- 
boned  fellow,  hardened  by  long  campaigning, 
yet  I  must  meet  him  with  bare  hands. 

[76] 


/  FIGHT  THE  CAPTAIN 


The  thought  no  sooner  swept  through  my 
mind,  than  I  put  it  into  execution.  I  was  down 
the  ladder,  scarcely  touching  it,  my  feet  firm 
on  the  floor,  my  hands  gripping  the  man.  He 
had  barely  time  in  which  to  whirl  about  and 
face  me,  flinging  the  girl  heavily  to  the  floor 
in  the  violence  of  movement.  I  knew 
she  struck  a  chair  as  she  fell,  and  lay  motion 
less,  yet  even  this  was  scarce  more  than  an 
impression,  for  my  whole  attention  was  held 
by  my  adversary.  I  had  the  collar  of  his 
jacket  twisted  tight,  my  other  hand  gripping 
his  wrist.  For  a  single  instant  he  gave  back, 
held  fast  against  the  edge  of  the  heavy  table, 
struggling  desperately,  yet  hardly  realizing 
the  nature  of  the  attack.  I  had  dropped  down 
upon  him  as  from  the  sky,  and  for  the  moment, 
he  scarcely  knew  whether  I  was  man,  or  beast. 
There  was  terror  in  his  upturned  face,  as  he 
stared  at  me,  seeking  to  tear  loose  my  hand 
grip  at  his  throat.  Then  he  grasped  the  truth, 
and  rallied  to  a  fight  for  life. 

With  a  mad  strength  I  had  never  before 
supposed  any  man  possessed,  he  lifted  himself, 

[77] 


SHEA,  OF  THE  IRISH  BRIGADE 

inch  by  inch,  forcing  me  to  yield  way.  His 
fingers  seemed  to  fairly  crush  the  bones  of 
my  arm  as  he  jerked  his  throat  free,  and,  with 
savage  curse,  struck  at  me.  The  blow  missed 
me  by  the  breadth  of  a  hair,  its  violence  caus 
ing  him  to  stumble  across  the  bench.  As  he 
fell  I  struck,  and  he  went  over  onto  the  floor. 
Again  I  had  him,  but  his  strength  was  too 
much  to  withstand,  and  I  was  lifted  bodily 
and  forced  back  against  the  table.  His  face 
was  battered  by  my  blow,  blood  dripping  into 
his  eyes,  but  he  realized  now  that  he  was  con 
tending  with  a  man,  and  fear  had  given  way 
to  a  fierce  anger. 

"  Oh,  ho !  so  the  lass  knew  what  she  was 
talking  about,  hey!  "  he  growled.  "  The  bag 
gage  had  a  card  up  her  sleeve.  Now,  you 
French  montebank,  I  '11  teach  you  a  lesson." 

He  had  me  before  I  could  rise,  but  my  arm 
protected  my  throat,  and  the  weight  of  us 
both  caused  the  table  to  give  way,  and  we 
went  down  together,  clawing  and  struggling 
like  two  wild  beasts.  I  know  not  what  flung 
me  on  top;  I  think  the  grip  I  had  on  his  hair, 
[78] 


/  FIGHT  THE  CAPTAIN 


but  I  got  a  knee  into  his  stomach,  desperate 
enough  then  to  be  careless  how  I  fought,  and 
reached  out  for  a  pewter  mug  on  the  floor 
beside  us.  I  got  it  none  too  soon,  for  he  flung 
me  sidewise,  fairly  wrenching  my  hand  loose, 
but  in  that  second  I  struck  once.  Had  I  been 
free,  and  able  to  lift  my  arm  a  foot  higher, 
that  would  have  been  a  death  blow.  As  it  was 
he  fell  back,  still  clutching  me,  and  lay  mo 
tionless.  An  instant  I  held  the  mug  poised, 
scarcely  realizing  what  had  occurred,  and  then 
pulled  myself  free,  and  sat  upright.  The 
fellow  breathed,  but  that  was  all;  my  blow 
had  taken  him  fairly  on  the  side  of  the  head, 
and  it  was  scarce  likely  he  ever  knew  what 
hit  him.  I  caught  hold  of  the  table  and  got 
to  my  feet,  trembling  still  from  the  exertion 
of  the  struggle. 

I  expected  the  noise  would  have  been  heard, 
and  my  hand  gripped  my  sword  hilt  as  I 
stood  over  the  big  body,  and  waited,  staring 
at  the  door.  There  was  no  sound  of  alarm, 
nothing  to  indicate  an  attempt  at  rescue.  The 
candle  on  the  table  had  been  thrown  to  the 

[79] 


SHEA,  OF  THE  IRISH  BRIGADE 

floor  and  extinguished,  but  the  other,  over 
the  fire-place,  continued  to  burn.  There  was 
light  enough  for  me  to  see  from  wall  to  wall, 
to  discern  the  dark  stain  of  blood  on  the  floor. 
My  first  thought  was  for  Dorn.  Surely  the 
overturned  bench,  the  splintered  chair  must 
have  created  sufficient  racket  to  have  aroused 
him.  But  there  was  no  sound  from  the  inner 
room,  and  my  eyes  wandered  from  the  closed 
door,  and  encountered  those  of  the  woman, 
where  she  rested  on  one  knee. 

I  saw  her  clearly  in  that  moment  as  I  had 
not  been  permitted  to  before.  She  faced  the 
sputtering  candle,  and  her  hair,  disarranged 
by  the  struggle  with  Awl  right,  was  thrust 
back,  and  hung  unconfined  to  the  floor.  I 
could  not  describe  if  I  would  the  charm  that 
held  me.  'T  is  something  words  will  not  ex 
press  to  another.  It  was  not  prettiness  but 
beauty  which  confronted  me,  yet  the  look  upon 
her  face  told  me  at  once  her  distrust. 

"  Mademoiselle,"  I  said,  conscious  of  a 
strange  sound  to  my  voice.  "  I  think  the  way 
i8  clear  for  us  to  go." 

[80] 


I  FIGHT  THE  CAPTAIN 


"  For  you,  Monsieur,"  and  she  attained  her 
feet,  ignoring  my  hand,  "  the  way  is  clear,  for 
I  am  a  woman  without  strength  to  stop  you. 
I  can  ask  but  one  favor  —  give  me  back  the 
paper." 

"The  paper!  Why?  Am  I  not  now  to 
be  trusted  with  its  delivery?  " 

My  tone  of  surprise  must  have  been  noticed, 
for  the  expression  of  her  eyes  changed. 

"  Do  you  imply  you  ever  meant  to  deliver 
it?  "  she  asked  swiftly.  "  Ever  intended  to 
ride  into  the  French  lines?" 

"  I  gave  you  my  word,  Mademoiselle." 

"  To  deceive  me;  to  cause  me  to  trust  you. 
And  you  also  claimed  to  be  upon  scout,  an 
honorable  soldier." 

"  And  now  you  hold  me  unworthy?  " 

"  How  else  can  I  hold  you?  You  were 
above  listening;  you  heard  this  man's  tale. 
Are  you  not  that  Irish  officer,  Monsieur,  who 
killed  my  brother?  Is  that  not  why  you  were 
hiding  here,  to  escape  those  who  would  avenge 
him?" 

I  bent  my  head,  struggling  for  courage  to 
[81] 


SHEA,  OF  THE  IRISH  BRIGADE 

face  her,  and  explain.  'Twas  no  easy  task, 
for  she  could  not  be  made  to  know  the  man  as 
I  did  —  his  arrogance  of  manner,  his  words 
of  insult,  his  bullying  methods,  his  disdain 
for  all  of  lesser  rank.  Nor  could  I  tell  her 
how  the  quarrel  arose,  nor  of  those  hard  words 
he  spoke  which  drew  my  blow.  She  was  the 
man's  sister,  and  might  not  understand.  Nay! 
she  would  believe  I  lied ;  that  I  made  up  the 
tale  to  shield  myself.  Yet  I  could  not  leave 
her  here  alone;  nor  see  her  ride  forth  into  the 
dark  night  unattended. 

Not  a  league  of  those  dull  plains  about  us 
was  safe  by  either  night  or  day  —  the  roads 
patrolled  by  soldiers  to  whom  mercy  was 
unknown;  the  fields  and  woods  sheltering 
fugitive  peasants  capable  in  their  misery  of 
any  crime.  No  more  had  I  any  purpose  of 
denying  to  her  that  I  was  the  man  who  had 
fought  Charles  d'Enville.  I  could  not  force 
myself  to  face  her  eyes  of  reproach,  and  lie. 
Deep  in  my  heart  arose  a  conviction  that 
this  was  no  woman  who  would  ever  forgive 
deceit.  She  would  respect  me  far  more  if  I 

[82] 


/  FIGHT  THE  CAPTAIN 


dealt  with  her  fairly,  if  I  squarely  confessed 
the  whole  truth. 

"Well,  Monsieur?" 

"Yes,  I  am  the  man,"  I  answered,  striv 
ing  to  speak  with  restraint.  "  Yet  you  cannot 
justly  blame  me  for  not  admitting  this  until 
it  became  necessary.  I  wished  you  to  trust 
me,  and  I  would  rather  the  story  was  told  you 
by  others." 

"You  attempt  no  defense?  You  make  no 
excuse?  " 

"  No,  Mademoiselle.  My  comrades  will 
tell  you  how  the  affair  occurred.  All  I  shall 
say  is  that  we  fought  fairly;  it  was  point  to 
point,  his  life  or  mine,  and  he  the  better 
swordsman.  I  do  not  even  know  that  I  killed 
him;  only  that  my  weapon  slipped  up  his 
sword  blade,  and  I  thrust  home.  He  fell,  and 
those  of  my  corps  urged  me  to  fly;  forcing  me 
from  the  room." 

"  But,"  she  insisted,  her  eyes  ever  on  my 
face,  "  if  you  were  justified  why  was  it  neces 
sary  for  you  to  seek  refuge  in  flight?  Dueling 
is  not  uncommon  in  the  camp." 

[83] 


SHEA,  OF  THE  IRISH  BRIGADE 

"  Your  brother  was  my  superior  officer,  a 
favorite  of  Marshall  Saxe,  and  a  noble  of 
France.  My  only  hope  for  justice  lay  in  an 
appeal  to  the  king." 

She  was  silent  for  a  long  moment,  her  head 
drooping.  When  she  lifted  her  face  to  look 
at  me  again  there  was  a  mist  of  tears  in  the 
dark  eyes.  I  stood  motionless,  scarcely  daring 
to  hope,  yet  fully  decided  as  to  my  own  course 
of  action. 

"  And  you  insist  that  you  would  have  car 
ried  the  dispatches  to  Charleroi?  " 

"Yes,  Mademoiselle." 

"  The  act  would  have  endangered  your  life? 
led  to  your  arrest?  " 

"Yes,  Mademoiselle." 

"  Then  why  would  you  dare  to  run  such  a 
risk  —  for  France?  " 

"  Partially,  Mademoiselle;  I  am  a  soldier, 
and  loyal  to  my  cause,  yet  I  cannot  say  that 
I  would  have  made  the  sacrifice  for  France 
alone.  There  was  another  motive." 

"  What?  " 

"  A  woman's  honor,  and  a  woman's  trust." 
[84] 


/  FIGHT  THE  CAPTAIN 


A  bit  of  red  crept  into  her  cheek,  her 
hands  clasping  tightly. 

"  You  do  not  say  that  merely  to  be  gallant. 
You  are  not  a  courtier,  Monsieur  Shea.  I  do 
not  in  the  least  know  why  it  should  be  so,  but 
—  but  still  I  almost  believe  you.  I  —  I  — 
read  the  truth  in  your  eyes."  She  hesitated 
as  though  doubting  the  propriety  of  saying 
more,  but  her  better  judgment  conquered. 
"  Perhaps,  I  should  not  say  this,  but  we  have 
met  strangely,  and  are  here  together  in  the 
midst  of  peril.  I  do  not  know  what  these  dis 
patches  contain,  yet  we  may  have  entrusted 
to  us  the  fate  of  France.  We  must  trust  each 
other  —  not  even  the  killing  of  my  brother 
can  justify  my  refusal  to  accept  your  aid  now. 
You  have  fought  for  me  —  "  she  shuddered  as 
she  looked  at  Awlright —  "  and  —  saved  me, 
Monsieur,  from  that  beast.  I  must  be  grate 
ful;  besides  —  " 

"  What  Mademoiselle?  "  Is  it  not  best  for 
me  to  know?  " 

"If  my  words  are  not  misunderstood  — 
yes.  Yet  they  are  not  easy  to  speak.  I  loved 

[85] 


SHEA,  OF  THE  IRISH  BRIGADE 

my  brother,  Monsieur.  He  was  ever  kind  to 
me,  yet  I  know  him  to  have  been  hard  and 
overbearing  to  others.  Perchance  this  affair 
was  his  fault,  and  not  yours.  You  may  have 
done  no  more  than  defend  yourself.  I  will 
not  condemn  until  I  know." 

I  touched  her  hand,  and,  while  there  was 
no  response,  she  made  no  attempt  to  repulse 
me. 

"  You  have  given  me  new  heart,"  I  said 
earnestly.  "  Now  I  know  I  can  rely  on  you 
to  the  end,  but  I  will  not  expect  more,  nor 
attempt  to  deceive.  I  have  no  defense  Ma 
demoiselle;  I  was  hot  of  head,  and  ready 
enough  to  quarrel.  Yet  now,  in  this  affair,  I 
have  your  confidence?  " 

"  Yes,"  she  answered  gravely.  "  I  am  going 
to  trust  you.  See!  "  stepping  back,  and  releas 
ing  her  hand,  "  the  Englishman  moves!  he  is 
not  dead!" 

"  It  was  a  light  blow  I  struck,  but  will  give 
us  time.  Yet  we  have  talked  overlong  already. 
Pick  up  your  pistol,  Mademoiselle;  now  we 
will  have  a  look  at  the  lieutenant." 

[86] 


/  FIGHT  THE  CAPTAIN 


She  followed  me  closely,  as  I  crossed  the 
room,  and  opened  the  door  leading  into  the 
shed.  It  revealed  a  small  apartment,  used 
merely  for  purposes  of  cooking,  unoccupied 
except  for  Dorn,  who  lay  huddled  against  a 
side  wall  in  drunken  stupor.  I  bent  over  him, 
half  believing  he  feigned  sleep,  yet  the  heavy 
regularity  of  his  breathing  convinced  me 
otherwise.  I  turned  away  from  the  fellow 
in  disgust,  and  cast  a  quick  glance  about. 
There  was  one  window,  closed  by  a  wooden 
shutter,  and  a  door.  Surely  this  rear  exit  was 
more  likely  to  be  unguarded  than  the  front 
entrance,  for  all  sounds  had  evidenced  that 
the  troop  of  guards  had  made  camp  beside 
the  road.  I  closed  the  interior  door,  plung 
ing  the  rear  room  into  darkness,  and  grasped 
my  companion  by  the  arm. 

"  Do  you  know  how  we  are  to  escape?  "  she 
asked,  in  a  whisper.  "  Have  you  a  plan?  " 

"  Hardly  that;  we  must  learn  first  how  the 
land  lies.  Come,  as  I  guide  you." 

I  lifted  the  latch  noiselessly,  and  peered 
cautiously  out.  The  red  gleam  of  a  camp  fire, 

[87] 


SHEA,  OF  THE  IRISH  BRIGADE 

not  far  off,  but  concealed  by  the  side  of  the 
house,  cast  a  revealing  light  over  objects 
immediately  at  hand.  Not  far  away  could  be 
distinguished  the  building  in  which  I  had 
concealed  my  horse ;  the  door  was  to  the  right, 
and  I  knew  a  sentry  would  be  there;  indeed, 
I  could  imagine  I  made  out  the  soldier's 
shadow  as  he  approached  the  corner,  turned 
sharply  and  disappeared  again  back  into  the 
gloom. 

Convinced  that  I  had  located  the  camp,  our 
path  of  escape  must  lie  in  the  opposite  direc 
tion,  and  yet  it  would  be  useless  for  us  to  flee 
on  foot.  Even  although  we  possessed  several 
hours  yet  of  darkness,  mounted  men  would 
easily  track  us  down  with  the  first  brightening 
of  dawn.  And  Awlright  would  not  remain 
long  unconscious ;  he  would  awaken  actuated 
by  a  mad  desire  for  revenge.  Besides  we  had 
to  fear  the  possibility  of  encountering  bands 
of  peasants,  who  roamed  and  terrorized  the 
country  between  the  military  lines.  They 
were  everywhere,  looting  deserted  homes, 
torturing  and  slaying  the  helpless,  desperate 

[88] 


/  FIGHT  THE  CAPTAIN 


from  lack  of  food,  and  uncontrolled  by  any 
form  of  discipline.  They  were  like  venomous 
snakes  ready  to  strike  any  victim,  and  the  flat 
land  offered  no  concealment,  except  within 
the  shadow  of  small  groves,  likely  to  hide  the 
very  danger  we  had  most  reason  to  avoid.  On 
foot  we  should  be  helplessly  exposed  to  dis 
covery  and  attack  —  our  fate  might  never  be 
known. 

Memory  told  me  there  were  other  houses 
to  the  left  —  mere  huts  to  be  sure,  thatched 
with  straw.  These  might  be  occupied  by 
soldiers,  yet  that  was  hardly  probable,  as  the 
dirt  within  made  the  camp  in  the  open  more 
preferable.  Both  armies  had  long  since 
learned  that  disease  lurked  in  the  filth  of  peas 
ant  cabins,  and  officers  seldom  permitted  their 
men  to  make  use  of  such  dwellings.  But,  even 
if  there  were  some  sleeping  behind  those  walls, 
the  outside  shadows  would  help  conceal  our 
movements.  The  girl  could  be  left  there 
safely,  while  I  sought  the  horse  herd,  and  dis 
covered  some  means  for  procuring  a  suitable 
mount. 

[89] 


SHEA,  OF  THE  IRISH  BRIGADE 

I  watched  again  closely  for  the  shadow  of 
the  sentry,  and  the  instant  I  felt  convinced 
the  fellow  had  turned  his  back,  I  urged  her 
forward  with  a  word  of  explanation.  As  silent 
as  though  we  were  specters  we  ventured  out 
and  along  in  the  shade  of  the  tavern  wall, 
crossed  a  narrow  open  space,  where  there  had 
once  been  a  garden,  and  crouched  breathless 
beside  the  black  shadow  of  a  hut.  Neither 
spoke,  every  instinct  alert  to  know  whether 
our  swift  passage  had  been  observed.  I  still 
retained  my  clasp  upon  her  hand,  and,  in  the 
deep  silence,  I  could  hear  her  subdued  breath 
ing,  and  feel  the  tightening  grip  of  her  fingers. 

"  You  are  not  frightened,  Mademoiselle?  " 
I  whispered,  because  I  felt  that  I  must  speak. 

"No;  I  —  I  think  not.  I  hardly  know, 
Monsieur.  It  is  all  strange  to  me,  such  adven 
tures.  I  am  not  a  soldier  like  you,  accustomed 
to  danger.  They  will  follow  us?  " 

"  The  moment  an  alarm  is  raised.  Awl- 
right  is  not  one  to  forgive  that  blow  I  dealt 
him.  Yet  I  fear  these  English  guards  less 
than  some  other  perils  of  the  way." 

[90] 


/  FIGHT  THE  CAPTAIN 


I  could  scarcely  perceive  her  outline,  closely 
together  as  we  crouched,  and  yet  knew  her 
face  was  turned  toward  me. 

"What,  Monsieur?" 

"  The  hordes  of  peasants  driven  out  of  their 
villages  to  starve,  and  rob.  The  country  be 
tween  the  lines  swarms  with  vermin,  and  there 
is  no  crime  at  which  many  among  them  would 
hesitate.  We  must  procure  horses,  or  we  shall 
be  in  their  hands  before  we  have  traveled  a 
league.  I  have  seen  some  savage  sights  since 
I  rode  out  of  Charleroi." 

The  thoughtless  mention  of  the  place 
brought  back  her  memory,  and,  she  drew  away 
her  hand,  and  held  slightly  aloof  from  me. 
I  felt  the  swift  action,  and  as  instantly  com 
prehended  the  cause. 


CHAPTER  VIII 

IN  DESPERATE  STRAIT 

IT  WAS  a  dark  night,  the  sky  overcast,  not 
a  star  visible.  The  camp  fire  gave  feeble 
light,  barely  enough  to  enable  me  to  distin 
guish  dimly  the  outlines  of  near-by  objects, 
yet  yielding  to  these  a  grotesque  and  unusual 
appearance.  And  there  were  noises;  some  I 
could  hear  clearly  and  understand,  but  others 
were  weird  and  far-off,  mere  echoes  borne  to 
us  by  the  night  wind.  There  were  voices 
grumbling  hoarsely  beyond  the  tavern,  the 
words  indistinguishable,  doubtless  the  idle 
conversation  of  the  sleepy  picket  guard.  A 
sentry  out  in  the  road  called,  and  there  fol 
lowed  a  crunch  of  feet  in  the  direction  of  the 
voice.  An  owl  hooted,  and,  as  if  in  answer, 
a  dog  wailed  forth  his  misery  far  out  beyond 
the  village. 

Somewhere  away  to  the  right,  there  was  a 
steady  tapping,  as  though  someone  hammered 

[92] 


72V  DESPERATE  STRAIT 


on  wood,  and  once  I  thought  I  heard  a  shriek 
as  of  one  in  mortal  agony.  But  the  sound  I 
listened  for  was  the  restless  movement  of 
horses,  and  at  last,  I  located  the  herd,  picketed 
across  the  road,  to  the  front  of  the  tavern. 
Now  that  I  knew  where  to  look,  I  could  even 
distinguish  the  shadowy  forms  of  those  near 
est  me.  There  was  some  disturbance  among 
them,  and  .the  men  called  by  the  vidette  were 
endeavoring  to  quiet  the  startled  animals, 
soothing  them  with  speech,  and  refastening 
their  halters.  I  made  the  fellows  out  dimly 
as  they  returned  to  the  road,  and  paused  an 
instant  to  exchange  words  with  the  man  on 
guard,  before  tramping  back  to  the  comfort 
of  the  fire.  The  latter  resumed  his  beat, 
thrashing  one  arm,  as  though  the  night  air 
had  chilled  his  blood.  When  he  disappeared 
behind  the  end  of  the  tavern  my  eyes  concen 
trated  themselves  on  the  shadowy  blotches 
representing  horses.  The  troop  animals  were 
evidently  bunched  closely  together,  and  to  en 
deavor  to  detach  even  one  from  among  them 
would  alarm  all  the  others.  But  there  was  a 

[93] 


SHEA,  OF  THE  IRISH  BRIGADE 

single  animal  —  the  captain's,  no  doubt  — 
tethered  a  few  rods  away,  munching  grass  at 
the  end  of  a  long  rope.  By  creeping  forward 
cautiously,  I  might  succeed  in  leading  this 
creature  unobserved  beyond  sight  of  the  sen 
try.  I  wanted  two,  but  even  one  was  far 
better  than  being  afoot. 

"  Mademoiselle,  you  will  wait  here  until  I 
return,"  I  said,  turning  my  head  to  glance  at 
her. 

"  Alone,  Monsieur?  " 

"  Yes;  there  is  nothing  to  fear  if  you  remain 
quiet.  Only  do  not  change  position,  for  I 
shall  need  to  find  you  quickly.  I  am  going 
to  attempt  cutting  out  a  horse  for  our  use  — 
the  one  alone  there  to  the  left." 

She  gazed  in  the  direction  I  pointed,  shad 
ing  her  eyes  with  one  hand. 

"  There  is  no  other  way?  Will  you  not  be 
seen?  Is  that  your  horse,  Monsieur?" 

"  There  is  a  chance  of  success.  No,  my 
horse  is  in  the  hut  yonder,  and  under  guard. 
I  imagine  the  animal  yonder  to  be  Captain 
Awlright's  mount  You  wish  me  well?  " 

[94] 


72V  DESPERATE  STRAIT 


11  Surely,  Monsieur." 

I  do  not  know  why,  but  there  was  an  indif 
ference  to  the  tone  in  which  she  answered  me 
that  hurt.  I  could  not  see  her  face,  but  I  felt 
that  her  mind  yet  dwelt  upon  the  fate  of  her 
brother.  She  accepted  my  aid  because  there 
was  no  other  to  be  had;  she  was  trying  to  be 
gracious  and  obedient  but  the  former  feeling 
of  confidence,  so  much  in  evidence  when  we 
were  together  in  the  loft  of  the  inn,  had  en 
tirely  vanished.  She  could  not  forget,  nor 
would  my  heart  blame  her,  although  the 
knowledge  of  her  doubt  brought  me  a  twinge 
of  pain.  However,  I  would  do  the  best  I 
could  in  her  service  —  something  she  would 
know  and  understand. 

"  I  thank  you,  Mademoiselle,"  I  replied 
courteously.  "  You  can  watch  me  from 
here." 

Either  my  words,  or  their  manner  of  utter 
ance,  must  have  exhibited  my  feeling,  for  she 
touched  my  sleeve  with  an  extended  hand. 

"  Do  not  go  feeling  that  I  am  ungrateful," 
she  insisted  anxiously.  "  For,  indeed,  I  am 

[95] 


SHEA,  OF  THE  IRISH  BRIGADE 

not.  I  realize  how  easy  it  would  be  for  you 
to  escape  alone,  and  that  this  risk  is  assumed 
in  service  to  me.  If  I  spoke  indifferently  it 
was  not  at  all  because  I  fail  to  care  for  your 
safety." 

"  You  may  never  know  how  your  words 
hearten  me.  I  will  do  my  best;  wait  here  and 
be  ready." 

I  crept  out  into  the  open  space,  sinking  my 
body  into  a  slight  depression  which  I  dis 
covered  by  chance,  and  advancing  with  ex 
treme  caution.  I  must  have  been  out  of  view 
almost  at  once  for,  when  I  paused  an  instant, 
and  glanced  back,  I  could  barely  perceive  the 
black  smudge  of  the  hut,  with  no  evidence  of 
the  girl's  presence.  The  night  was  somewhat 
lighter  ahead,  because  of  the  glow  of  fire  to 
the  left,  but  the  depression  in  which  I  hid 
circled  in  the  opposite  direction,  and  I  fol 
lowed  it  for  better  protection.  This  brought 
me  to  the  road  at  a  safe  distance  from  the 
sentry,  whom  I  could  perceive  now  clearly, 
silhouetted  against  the  flame.  I  waited  until 
his  back  was  turned,  then  slipped  across  the 

[96] 


IN  DESPERATE  STR4IT 


open  road,  and  burrowed  in  the  grass  and 
weeds  on  the  other  side. 

By  this  time  I  was  well  to  the  right  of  the 
solitary  animal  I  was  seeking  to  approach, 
and  began  to  fear  that  if  I  crept  forward  I 
would  only  frighten  the  beast  and  create  an 
alarm.  A  bold  approach  would  be  far  better, 
and,  with  this  end  in  view,  I  moved  on  hands 
and  knees  until  the  body  of  the  horse  was 
between  me  and  the  sentry.  Then,  safely 
sheltered,  I  stood  up,  waited  until  the  man 
turned  again  on  his  beat  and  walked  quietly 
forward.  The  horse  turned  his  head,  and 
smelt  of  me,  but  with  no  exhibition  of  fear, 
and  concealed  safely  behind  his  shadow  I 
made  hasty  examination  of  his  condition  and 
equipment.  He  was  a  long-limbed  rangy 
animal,  well  able  to  carry  Awl  right's  weight, 
and  had  on  a  saddle  cloth,  and  bridle,  although 
the  bits  were  not  in  the  mouth.  A  strong  rope 
about  the  neck  led  away  into  the  darkness, 
and  was,  apparently,  a  long  bit  of  cord.  I 
sawed  this  through  strand  by  strand,  with  my 
knife  blade;  held  tightly  to  the  severed  end, 

[97] 


SHEA,  OF  THE  IRISH  BRIGADE 

and  peered  across  the  animal's  back,  figuring 
out  the  safer  course  of  action. 

I  could  see  the  camp  fire  now,  and  the  men 
sleeping  about  it,  with  a  little  group  huddled 
against  the  tavern  walls  out  of  the  wind.  The 
man  on  guard  stopped  in  his  tramp  to  ex 
change  a  word,  and  then  paced  slowly  the 
distance  to  the  opposite  corner,  past  the  closed 
door.  The  candle  inside  the  house  yet  burned, 
for  I  could  perceive  a  faint  gleam  of  light 
through  some  unguarded  chink,  but  all  re 
mained  quiet  within.  The  fellow  came  to  the 
end  of  his  beat;  cast  a  careless  glance  out  into 
the  darkness,  shifted  his  gun,  and  wheeled 
about.  To  all  appearance  he  had  no  thought 
of  danger  —  his  trick  at  sentry  a  mere  routine. 
My  mind  grasped  instantly  the  chance  offered 
by  such  carelessness.  If  there  was  no  noise 
the  probability  was  that  he  would  never  even 
miss  the  presence  of  this  lone  horse.  Even  if 
he  did,  he  would  most  likely  imagine  the  ani 
mal  had  wandered  to  the  end  of  the  picket 
rope,  or  laid  down  in  the  long  grass.  There 
was  small  chance  he  would  investigate.  Im- 

[98] 


IN  DESPERATE  STR4IT 


pressed  by  the  truth  of  this,  I  stepped  back 
ward,  the  horse  following  to  my  grip  on  the 
rope.  There  was  no  noise,  except  a  faint 
rustling  of  the  grass  underfoot,  and  I  watched 
closely  the  movements  of  the  guard.  As  he 
wheeled  to  retrace  his  beat  we  waited  motion 
less,  but  the  moment  his  back  was  turned  we 
were  off  once  more.  This  second  attempt 
brought  us  well  beyond  his  vision  and  down  a 
slight  declivity  where  the  darkness  was  in 
tense.  I  felt  for  passage  foot  by  foot  over 
uneven  ground;  then  ventured  to  cross  the 
road,  and  seek  a  way  back  into  the  village. 

It  was  more  by  sense  of  touch  than  sight 
that  I  advanced,  for  among  the  huts  the  gloom 
of  the  night  was  like  a  black  wall.  Yet  I 
found  a  projecting  log,  slipped  the  bit  into 
the  horse's  mouth,  and  fastened  the  rein  se 
curely.  To  return  to  the  point  from  which  I 
started  was  not  an  easy  journey,  but  the  dis 
tant  glare  of  the  camp  fire  served  as  a  guide, 
and  afforded  a  sense  of  direction.  Once  near 
the  hut  where  we  had  hidden  it  could  not  be 
mistaken,  because  of  its  close  proximity  to  the 

[99] 


SHEA,  OF  THE  IRISH  BRIGADE 

tavern.  Eager  to  make  all  possible  haste,  and 
confident  the  village  was  totally  deserted,  I 
ran  forward,  almost  recklessly,  to  the  spot 
where  I  had  left  her.  It  was  unoccupied  — 
Mademoiselle  had  disappeared.  For  a  mo 
ment  I  could  not  realize  the  truth,  searching 
with  my  hands  in  the  darker  shadows,  and 
circling  the  entire  hut,  thinking  she  might 
have  merely  changed  her  position  for  conceal 
ment.  But  the  stern  fact  of  her  absence  was 
only  too  apparent.  She  had  gone,  left  me 
without  a  word  of  explanation,  broken  her 
pledge  and  disappeared.  But  why  had  she 
done  this?  And  where  could  she  have  fled? 

I  stood  there  stunned,  bewildered,  staring 
helplessly  about,  fearing  every  instant  to  hear 
sounds  of  alarm  from  the  tavern ;  not  knowing 
where  to  turn  or  search. 

There  was  little  doubt  in  my  mind  as  to 
the  reason  for  this  act;  she  distrusted,  feared 
me.  Her  fair  words  of  confidence  had  been 
falsely  spoken,  and  she  had  grasped  eagerly 
the  earliest  opportunity  to  escape  from  my 
power.  I  was  her  brother's  murderer!  That 
[ioo] 


IN  DESPERATE  STRAIT 


one  thought  must  have  obscured  all  else  in  her 
mind,  and  left  her  desperate  enough  to  dare 
any  other  danger  rather  than  continue  to  com 
panion  with  me.  This  conception,  this  knowl 
edge,  thus  sharply  brought  home,  cut  me  like 
a  whip.  The  very  pain  with  which  I  ac 
knowledged  the  truth  told  me  instantly  the 
depth  of  my  own  feeling  toward  her.  The 
girl  had  appealed  to  me  strangely,  her  per 
sonality  had  touched  me  with  an  odd  power. 
Perchance  it  was  the  way  we  met,  her  depend 
ence,  her  seeming  trust;  yet  the  memory  of  her 
face,  the  sound  of  her  voice  haunted  me  as 
none  other  had  ever  done.  And  she  preferred 
the  night  alone,  the  dread  danger  of  the  un 
known,  to  my  companionship.  She  had  hid 
den  herself  in  this  foul  village  rather  than 
wait  my  return.  My  presence  was  more  hate 
ful  to  her  than  all  else. 

But  was  it?  Could  there  not  be  some  other 
explanation?  Surely  it  was  not  in  her  nature 
to  lie,  to  pretend  a  faith  she  did  not  feel.  I 
could  not  rid  myself  of  the  belief  that  she 
was  true  of  heart,  loyal  and  outspoken.  Not 


SHEA,  OF  THE  IRISH  BRIGADE 

once  had  she  seemed  to  shrink  from  me  ex 
cept  in  that  first  moment.  She  had  accepted 
my  statement  graciously  and  frankly;  had  even 
given  me  her  hands  in  an  impulse  of  gratitude. 
It  was  not  in  her  nature  to  assume  to  be  other 
than  she  was.  I  doubted  if  this  lady  could 
have  acted  the  part  so  as  to  deceive  anyone. 
Yet  what  explanation  was  possible?  Could 
she  have  been  discovered,  and  either  borne, 
or  enticed  away?  Not  by  violence  surely,  for 
in  the  still  night  I  would  have  heard  sounds 
of  any  struggle.  The  other  thought  was  pre 
posterous —  for  who  could  be  here  to  entice? 
Why  should  she  trust  herself  to  any  strange 
prowler? 

I  dare  not  attempt  a  light,  yet  I  thrust  open 
the  door  of  the  hut,  and  spoke  her  name. 
There  was  no  answer,  but  I  could  not  de 
sist  feeling  about  within  from  wall  to  wall, 
discovering  not  so  much  as  a  chair  or  table  to 
relieve  its  barrenness.  Driven  by  desperation 
I  invaded  two  other  of  the  miserable  struc 
tures,  my  only  reward  the  release  of  a  half- 
starved  dog,  which  snapped  viciously  at  my 

[102] 


IN  DESPERATE  STRAIT 


legs,  and  then  fled,  with  a  howl  of  terror,  into 
the  night.  The  noise  the  brute  made  startled 
me  into  a  realization  of  my  own  peril.  This 
blind  search  was  useless;  it  could  lead  to 
nothing,  save  through  pure  accident  How 
ever  the  lady  had  fled,  whether  alone,  or  in 
company,  there  was  no  hope  of  my  finding 
her  amid  that  darkness.  Ay!  and  every  mo 
ment  of  delay,  every  sound  I  made,  might 
occasion  alarm.  Besides  she  had  left  with 
me  those  dispatches  for  the  king.  Their  safe 
delivery  into  his  hands  at  Charleroi  would 
bring  me  pardon,  perhaps  reward.  Every 
instinct  bade  me  mount  and  ride  away  on  the 
duty  of  a  soldier.  But  to  do  so  would  mean 
her  desertion  to  an  unknown  fate. 

I  stood  there  racked  by  doubt;  my  own  self 
ish  concerns  urging  me  to  escape,  my  aroused 
interest  in  the  lady  holding  me  irresolute. 
Suddenly  the  alarm  burst;  a  hoarse  voice 
called  out  some  hasty  order,  and  I  heard  the 
sound  of  running  men.  I  could  see  figures, 
outlined  dimly  by  the  fire  glow,  hastening 
toward  the  horse  herd.  Realizing  now  that 
[103] 


SHEA,  OF  THE  IRISH  BRIGADE 

I  no  longer  had  a  choice,  I  turned,  and  ran 
swiftly  through  the  darkness  toward  where 
I  had  left  the  stolen  horse.  For  the  instant 
a  desire  to  escape  capture  dominated  my  en 
tire  thought.  I  ran  blindly,  recklessly,  down 
the  narrow  passage  between  the  huts,  conscious 
of  the  shouting  of  the  guards,  even  recog 
nizing  the  bellowing  voice  of  Awlright  amid 
the  din.  Then  I  stopped  suddenly,  dismayed 
and  bewildered.  I  had  come  to  the  place 
where  I  had  secured  the  animal,  but  there 
was  no  horse  there. 


[104] 


CHAPTER  IX 

THE  CASTLE  OF  ROISEL 

VOICES  shouting  out  orders  into  the 
night,  the  sound  of  tramping  feet  in 
every  direction,  were  evidence  the  pursuit  was 
on  in  earnest.  Dazed  as  I  was  by  the  discovery 
that  the  horse  had  disappeared,  I  could  not 
linger  there,  nor  make  search  after  the  miss 
ing  animal.  I  had  been  too  long  a  soldier  to 
hesitate,  to  stand  idle  waiting  capture,  while  a 
possibility  of  escape  remained.  I  realized 
fully  what  it  would  mean  for  me  to  fall  alive 
into  the  hands  of  Awlright.  The  memory  of 
the  man  gave  wings  to  my  feet,  and  I  leaped 
recklessly  forward  into  the  darkness,  gripping 
my  sword  in  one  hand,  and  running  with  all 
possible  silence.  My  course  took  me  between 
the  line  of  houses,  toward  the  woods  at  the 
rear  of  the  village. 

The  direction  was  through  no  choice  of 
mine,   but  seemed   the  only  route  left  un 
guarded  ;  besides  the  row  of  low  huts,  deserted 
[105] 


SHEA,  OF  THE  IRISH  BRIGADE 

and  unlighted,  afforded  shadow,  and  impeded 
pursuit.  If  some  of  the  guard  were  mounted 
they  would  never  venture  into  these  crooked, 
narrow  lanes,  and  I  could  run  as  swiftly  as 
any  of  the  soldiers  afoot,  spurred  on  as  I  was 
by  a  desire  to  preserve  life.  I  fell  twice,  trip 
ping  over  some  unseen  obstacles,  and  ran  full 
tilt  into  a  post,  receiving  a  serious  bruise,  but 
was  instantly  up  again,  speeding  desperately 
forward.  I  came  forth  into  an  open  field 
well  in  advance  of  my  pursuers,  accepted  the 
chance  of  being  seen,  dashed  across  the  fifty 
feet  of  pasture,  and  plunged  into  the  black 
fringe  of  woods. 

Although  I  felt  safe  until  the  coming  of 
daylight,  I  burrowed  yet  deeper  into  the  cov 
ert,  forcing  passage  through  a  dense  under 
growth,  until  I  emerged  into  what  appeared 
to  be  a  narrow  glade  devoid  of  brush.  I  sank 
exhausted,  breathing  heavily  from  exertion, 
and  sought  to  locate  my  enemies  by  the  sound 
of  their  voices  as  they  called  to  each  other. 
They  were  evidently  searching  the  huts,  for 
I  could  see  far  off  through  the  screen  of  bushes 
[106] 


THE  CASTLE  OF  ROISEL 


and  trees  little  flashes  of  fire,  as  of  torches 
flaming  in  the  air.  Then  a  squad  of  horsemen 
rode  along  the  edge  of  the  wood,  swearing 
grimly  and  shouting  to  the  men  on  foot.  The 
search  of  the  village  was  being  conducted 
carelessly  and  in  haste,  and  I  overheard  scraps 
of  conversation  borne  by  the  wind  proving 
the  guards  believed  we  had  already  escaped 
on  the  stolen  horse,  and  were  well  beyond 
reach.  Only  the  fierce  insistence  of  the  mad 
dened  Awlright,  hoping  against  hope,  kept 
the  men  at  their  task,  while  Dorn,  roused  from 
his  drunken  stupor,  led  his  mounted  squad 
through  the  fields  in  wide  circuit  seeking  to 
intercept  us.  As  my  labored  breathing  ceased, 
and  I  felt  a  return  of  strength  to  my  limbs,  a 
renewed  confidence  came,  and  I  could  think 
clearly. 

Of  one  fact  I  was  certain  —  Mademoiselle 
had  assuredly  escaped  from  the  village;  other 
wise  the  search  of  the  huts  would  have  re 
vealed  her  presence.  The  searching  parties 
had  found  nothing.  And  she  must  have  ap 
propriated  the  horse,  dodging  in  that  direc- 
[107] 


SHEA,  OF  THE  IRISH  BRIGADE 

tion,  while  I  was  seeking  her.  But  why? 
What  purpose  could  she  have  had  in  thus  run 
ning  from  me?  It  could  not  be  the  dispatch, 
for  I  still  retained  the  paper  in  my  posses 
sion  —  I  could  feel  it  crinkle  in  the  pocket  of 
my  jacket.  Nor  could  I  conceive  that  it  was 
distrust  of  my  faith,  a  mere  desire  to  escape 
my  presence,  which  accounted  for  the  action. 

However  possible  this,  indeed,  might  be, 
considering  her  discovery  that  I  had  been  the 
cause  of  her  brother's  death,  yet  it  did  not 
seem  reasonable  that  a  woman  of  her  high 
spirit  would  flee  heedlessly  into  the  night 
merely  to  escape  my  company  for  a  few  hours. 
All  considerations  of  safety  would  urge  a  dif 
ferent  course,  and,  if  she  sought  revenge,  it 
could  be  achieved  much  quicker  by  denounc 
ing  me  to  the  first  French  picket.  That  would 
be  the  easiest  way  for  her,  and  the  surest; 
there  was  nothing  to  be  gained  by  leaving  me 
alone,  or  by  a  solitary  ride  through  dangerous 
country. 

Yet  the  more  I  thought  the  deeper  became 
my  perplexity.  What  could  be  the  expla- 
[108] 


THE  CASTLE  OF  ROISEL 


nation  of  her  sudden  disappearance?  I  had 
seen  no  one,  heard  no  one,  about  the  vil 
lage.  My  absence  from  her  involved  but  a 
few  minutes,  nor  had  I  gone  any  distance. 
Had  there  been  the  slightest  struggle  the  sound 
would  surely  have  reached  my  ears  through 
the  silence  of  night;  while  the  conception 
that  friends  had  come,  with  whom  she  had 
gone  away  quietly,  was,  to  my  mind,  beyond 
all  possibility.  Well,  if  I  could  not  penetrate 
the  veil  of  mystery,  I  might  feel  assured  that 
she  was  already  well  beyond  pursuit  of  these 
English  guardsmen.  She  was  not  hiding  in 
the  village,  and  so,  without  doubt,  was  safely 
in  the  saddle,  riding  straight  for  the  French 
lines. 

The  searchers  had  now  disappeared  from 
sight,  the  collection  of  huts  having  been 
ransacked  without  result,  and  the  voices  of 
the  men  sounded  farther  away.  The  squad 
of  horsemen  had  vanished  in  the  darkness 
around  the  edge  of  the  wood,  and  I  was  safe 
enough  from  discovery  until  daylight.  Then, 
it  was  likely,  a  detail  would  be  sent  to  scour 
[109] 


SHEA,  OF  THE  IRISH  BRIGADE 

the  forest  also  and,  if  possible,  discover  some 
trail.  I  imagined  there  was  already  a  tinge 
of  gray  along  the  eastern  sky,  and  that  I  could 
perceive  more  clearly  the  objects  about  me. 
Surely  the  night  must  be  nearly  spent,  and 
dawn  close  at  hand.  I  drank  at  a  stream  run 
ning  through  the  glade  in  which  I  hid;  then 
crossed,  and  clambered  up  the  opposite 
bank,  moving  slowly,  and  feeling  passage 
through  thick  woods  until  I  came  to  the  sum 
mit  of  a  low  hill.  Here  trees  had  been  felled, 
and  I  discovered  the  ruts  of  a  road.  With 
out  in  the  least  knowing  where  it  led  —  in 
deed,  having  lost  all  sense  of  direction  —  I 
decided  to  follow  it,  as  affording  easier  walk 
ing.  I  chose  to  turn  to  the  left,  as  that  course 
pointed  away  from  the  village,  although  I 
soon  learned  the  road  circled  and  turned  like 
a  great  snake  in  the  avoiding  of  obstacles. 
However,  it  kept  to  the  forest,  and  I  stumbled 
forward  through  the  darkness  for  fully  an 
hour,  my  limbs  bruised  by  stumps,  my  face 
scratched  by  branches  before  the  way  sud 
denly  emerged  at  the  edge  of  the  woods.  By 
[no] 


THE  CASTLE  OF  ROISEL 


this  time  a  sickly  dawn  was  in  the  sky  and  I 
became  aware  that  I  was  traveling  southward. 

Beyond  this  knowledge  there  was  little  to 
guide  me.  The  landscape  faintly  revealed 
by  the  dim  twilight  had  no  familiar  features. 
I  stood  under  the  tree  shadows,  listening  and 
looking,  puzzled  to  know  where  to  pro 
ceed,  my  whole  body  aching  from  fatigue. 
So  far  as  I  could  determine  the  mere  trace 
of  a  road,  overgrown  by  weeds,  ran  directly 
forward  across  a  morass,  the  rank,  coarse  grass 
high  on  either  side.  Beyond  this  were  hills, 
some  of  them  rock-faced  and  precipitous, 
thinly  fringed  with  trees,  but  appearing  bare 
and  desolate.  Nowhere  could  I  perceive  any 
sign  of  human  habitation  —  not  even  a  squalid 
hut,  or  smoking  chimney.  There  was  no 
sound,  no  moving  figure,  nothing  that  bespoke 
life.  The  light  of  the  dawn  increased  as  I 
gazed,  widening  my  vista,  and  revealing  ob 
jects  more  definitely.  Grotesque  forms  took 
shape,  enabling  me  to  determine  their  nature. 

At  last  I  realized  that  what  I  had  originally 
mistaken  for  a  mere  rock-faced  hill  was  in 
[in] 


SHEA,  OF  THE  IRISH  BRIGADE 

reality  the  ruins  of  an  old  castle.  Far  away 
as  it  was  I  could  trace  the  walls,  the  barbette, 
the  tower,  and  could  even  discern  the  black 
shadow  where  the  gate  had  been.  I  stared  at 
it  fascinated,  tracing  its  dimensions,  half  con 
vinced  my  eyes  played  me  a  trick.  Even  in 
its  ruins  the  place  was 'impressive;  even  at 
that  distance  I  recognized  it  as  having  been 
a  great  stronghold  in  its  day,  and  ransacked 
my  memory  to  recall  the  legends  of  the  neigh 
borhood. 

Eglinton,  Boisleux,  Maubeuge  —  no!  these 
were  to  the  north  and  east,  and  were  never 
of  such  dimensions.  Roiself  God  knows 
where  the  name  came  from,  out  of  what  cell 
of  memory  it  leaped,  who  it  was  who  had 
ever  told  me  the  story  —  yet  I  knew  I  had 
named  the  spot,  and  with  the  word  came  a 
swift  flood  of  indistinct  chronicles.  Roiself 
Ay!  that  was  where  some  king  of  France  had 
fled  for  refuge,  and  held  court  while  terror 
swept  the  land.  And  they  besieged  him  there, 
tunnelled  the  great  walls,  and  killed  him, 
fighting  sword  in  hand,  in  the  banquet  hall. 


THE  CASTLE  OF  ROISEL 


'T  was  said  a  thousand  knights  died  that  day. 
Why  that  would  be  three  hundred  years  ago  I 
I  could  not  even  remember  the  name  of  the 
king,  or  the  cause  of  the  quarrel.  Roiself 
The  picture  of  those  old  days  seemed  to  arise 
before  me;  there  were  gay  times  before  the 
besiegers  came  —  laughter  and  merriment, 
dancing,  wine,  and  song.  The  stone  flags  of 
the  court-yard  rang  to  the  tread  of  armed  men 
in  suits  of  mail;  men-at-arms  guarded  the 
walls,  and  the  great  halls  were  scenes  of  riot 
ous  revelry.  Cavalcades  came  and  went  amid 
jest  and  laughter,  the  prancing  of  gaily  ca 
parisoned  steeds,  the  fluttering  of  pennons. 
The  sun  glinted  on  helmets,  on  breast-plates 
of  steel,  while  snowy  arms  waved  from  the 
barred  windows. 

The  scene  thus  presented  was  a  vivid  one, 
yet  I  could  not  remain  there  to  reflect  upon  it, 
or  evoke  visions  of  the  past.  I  must  find 
shelter,  some  place  in  which  to  hide  from  Awl- 
right's  searching  parties,  until  darkness  came 
again.  These  drear  ruins  of  Roisel  promised 
protection,  if  nothing  more.  Even  if  the 


SHEA,  OF  THE  IRISH  BRIGADE 

guardsmen  rode  that  way,  there  would  be 
places  amid  that  pile  of  masonry  where  I 
could  hide  from  any  possible  discovery.  The 
matter  of  food  must  take  care  of  itself,  yet  it 
might  be  I  would  find  frightened  peasants 
cowering  among  the  crumbling  stones  —  in 
habitants  of  the  not  distant  village  —  who 
would  share  with  me  whatever  they  possessed 
to  sustain  life.  They  would  be  French,  and  my 
uniform,  torn  and  disreputable  as  it  was,  was 
still  recognizable.  Not  one  among  them 
would  dare  affront  a  Royal  Irlandais,  and  the 
iron  hand  of  Lord  Clare.  They  might  hate, 
but  fear  would  prove  the  stronger.  The  Bri 
gade  ever  paid  its  debts,  and  few  in  those  parts 
had  not  learned  the  lesson. 

At  least  I  had  no  other  choice,  as  to  remain 
in  the  open  would  expose  me  to  every  danger. 
I  crossed  the  cleared  space  quickly,  stooping 
low  at  a  run,  but  felt  far  safer  when  the  tall, 
swamp  grass  concealed  my  movements  from 
either  side.  The  road  was  an  old  one,  long 
disused,  overgrown  with  weeds,  and  narrowed 
by  encroaching  vegetation.  There  had  been 


THE  CASTLE  OF  ROISEL 


a  time  however,  when  it  must  have  been  the 
scene  of  heavy  traffic,  for  the  ruts  were  deep, 
and  horses'  hoofs  had  left  permanent  imprints 
in  the  soil.  But  these  were  all  ancient,  not 
even  a  broken  grass  blade  revealing  any  late 
passage.  It  was  a  crooked  causeway,  follow 
ing  a  slight  crest  through  the  swamp  land,  and 
some  of  the  distance  appeared  to  be  of  artifi 
cial  construction. 

Once  or  twice  I  came  to  spots  where  the 
water  had  undermined  the  earth  leaving 
barely  a  footpath,  yet  found  no  serious  diffi 
culty  in  pressing  steadily  forward.  The  road 
emerged  at  the  opening  of  a  ravine,  and  thence 
disappeared  up  a  low  hill  to  the  right  of  the 
castle,  becoming  more  indistinct  as  the  ground 
grew  rocky.  A  dim  path  circled  the  foot  of 
the  hill,  apparently  leading  toward  the  gray 
walls,  and,  after  a  moment's  hesitation  I  fol 
lowed  it. 

It  required  but  a  few  steps  to  place  me  in 

full  view  of  the  ancient  pile,  and  I  stood  still 

in  surprise,  gazing  curiously  at  the  gray  mass, 

the  walls,  overgrown  with  vegetation,  looking 

["5] 


SHEA,  OF  THE  IRISH  BRIGADE 

desolate  and  grim  in  silent  desertion.  Evi 
dently  the  place  had  been  harried,  but  not 
destroyed;  indeed  it  would  have  required  years 
to  have  razed  those  walls  of  stone.  Fire  had 
done  its  work;  neglect  and  frost  had  made 
breaches ;  growing  trees  had  pried  great  stones 
asunder,  and  there  were  evidences  in  plenty 
of  the  destructive  efforts  of  men.  Yet  the  Cas 
tle  of  Roisel  still  stood  there  mighty  and  awe- 
inspiring  even  after  the  desertion  of  centuries, 
as  grimly  defiant  as  when  it  sheltered  an  army, 
and  was  the  safeguard  of  a  king. 

My  eyes  traced  the  stupendous  sweep  of  the 
walls,  solid  and  unbroken,  rising  to  the  bat 
tlements  above.  Overtopping  these  were  tow 
ers,  with  long  embrasures  through  which  hung 
creeping  vines,  vividly  green  against  the  gray 
stone.  The  wide  entrance  was  open,  the  huge 
gates,  once  guarding  it,  destroyed,  while  the 
drawbridge  had  been  burned,  a  bare  remnant 
remaining  to  tell  its  fate.  There  was  water 
in  the  moat,  but  of  no  great  depth,  and  the 
path  I  followed  led  directly  down  the  steep 
bank.  Opposite  was  a  low  stone  building, 
[116] 


THE  CASTLE  OF  ROISEL 


built  on  a  rocky  shelf,  the  castle  wall  forming 
its  inner  side,  apparently  designed  as  a  guard 
house,  but  now  overgrown  with  clinging  vines. 
It  promised  shelter,  however,  and  preparing 
myself  for  the  adventure,  I  waded  the  moat, 
finding  the  water  scarcely  knee  high,  and 
clambered  up  to  the  surface  of  the  rock.  A 
tree,  of  considerable  size,  blocked  the  door 
way,  yet  sufficient  room  remained  for  entrance, 
and  I  squeezed  through  into  the  semi-darkness 
of  the  interior. 

It  was  an  eerie  place,  shrouded  in  gloom  by 
the  growth  of  vegetation  which  shadowed  ev 
ery  opening,  and  as  bare  as  one's  hand.  There 
was  a  fireplace  at  one  side,  and  a  stone  bench, 
but  nothing  else,  if  I  except  a  huge  rowel 
spur  in  one  corner,  the  leather  green  with 
age,  the  steel  a  mass  of  rust.  That  alone  was 
evidence  of  the  time  which  had  elapsed  since 
the  spot  had  been  visited ;  and,  as  I  pushed  it 
into  a  corner  with  my  feet,  the  rotten  leather 
fell  apart.  Yet,  but  for  dust,  the  place  was 
clean,  and  safe.  I  could  rest  there  without 
fear,  and  I  rolled  up  my  coat  for  a  pillow, 


SHEA,  OF  THE  IRISH  BRIGADE 

and  lay  down  on  the  bench,  which  was  broad, 
and  slightly  hollowed.  The  stone  made  a 
hard  bed,  but  I  was  not  unaccustomed  to  that, 
and  very  tired.  There  was  no  sound  save  the 
wind  in  the  leaves,  and  I  was  not  long  in  fall 
ing  asleep, 


[118] 


CHAPTER  X 

WITHIN  THE  WALLS 

SLEEP  was  deep  and  long  for  my  fatigue 
had  been  extreme,  and  when  I  roused  up 
at  last,  aching  in  body  from  my  hard  bed,  the 
sun  was  setting.  I  heard  no  sound.  I  sat  up 
with  difficulty,  and  was  at  once  conscious  of 
hunger.  Standing  in  the  entrance  to  the  build 
ing,  sheltered  from  observation  by  the  tree, 
I  gazed  out  across  the  morass  toward  the 
wood  which  had  protected  my  escape  the  pre 
vious  night.  The  distance  was  too  great  for 
any  certainty  of  identification  but  dark  specks, 
possibly  a  squadron  of  horse,  was  moving 
north  beside  the  edge  of  the  forest.  I  watched 
carefully  until  assured  it  had  passed  beyond 
the  road,  perhaps  on  march  for  the  camp  of 
the  allies  at  Cambrai.  One  thing  was  certain, 
whether  seeking  me  or  not,  the  force  was  not 
one  of  French  troops.  It  was  with  relief  I 
saw  the  last  straggler  disappear  behind  the 


SHEA,  OF  THE  IRISH  BRIGADE 

green  veil,  and  realized  my  place  of  refuge 
remained  undiscovered. 

But  where  should  I  turn,  and  how  proceed? 
I  must  procure  food,  and  I  needed  a  horse, 
yet  where  to  go  in  search  of  either  was  a  prob 
lem.  Nowhere  had  I  seen  the  slightest  sign 
of  any  inhabitants.  Indeed,  the  entire  sur 
rounding  country  appeared  deserted;  if  it  had 
ever  been  occupied  the  people  had  been  driven 
away,  and  were  now  hiding  from  observation. 
Fear  of  the  allies,  and  distrust  even  of  their 
own  troops,  had  depopulated  villages,  and  sent 
the  peasants  fleeing  to  the  hills  and  woods  for 
refuge.  The  possibility  that  some  of  these 
hapless  refugees  might  have  sought  shelter 
amid  the  ruins  of  the  castle,  urged  me  for 
ward  along  the  edge  of  the  moat  to  investigate 
more  closely  what  was  hidden  behind  those 
silent  gray  walls.  I  confess  to  a  feeling  of 
dread  as  I  drew  near  the  gaping  entrance,  the 
vastness  and  somber  silence  of  the  place  af 
fecting  me  strangely.  It  was  as  though  I  in 
vaded  a  huge  tomb,  and  I  think  I  should  have 
turned  away,  reluctant  to  explore  further,  con- 

[120] 


WITHIN  THE  WALLS 


vinced  there  was  nothing  amid  those  gloomy 
ruins  to  reward  effort,  had  I  not  suddenly  no 
ticed  the  fresh  prints  of  a  horse  in  the  dirt  of 
the  causeway. 

This  unexpected  discovery  startled  me  into 
new  life.  I  stared  at  the  hoofmarks,  scarcely 
realizing  their  significance  for  a  moment,  yet 
now  plainly  seeing  that  the  animal  had  evi 
dently  been  ridden  up  the  bank,  and  in 
through  the  unguarded  entrance.  They  were 
easily  traced,  but,  once  within  the  courtyard, 
the  hard  paving  stones  permitted  no  impress, 
and  the  trail  vanished  utterly.  Ordinarily  this 
would  not  have  seemed  so  strange,  for  some 
peasant  farmer  might  have  chosen  the  place  in 
which  to  hide  his  horse  from  the  foragers,  but 
the  imprints  were  of  small  hoofs,  well  shod, 
undoubtedly  the  mount  of  a  cavalryman.  And 
whoever  it  was,  the  rider  had  entered  the  grim 
portals,  and  was  still  within. 

The  outer  walls  were  bare,  and,  in  places, 
crumbling.  Great  stones,  fallen  from  the  top 
lay  below,  and  others  tottered  in  readiness  to 
fall.  Except  for  piles  of  debris  these  afforded 

[121] 


SHEA,  OF  THE  IRISH  BRIGADE 

no  opportunity  for  concealment.  There  must 
once  have  been  heavy  oaken  platforms  the 
entire  length  —  strong  enough  to  mount  cul- 
verins,  and  sustain  soldiers  prepared  to  resist 
assault  —  but  these  had  long  since  disap 
peared,  although  here  and  there  appeared  the 
wreck  of  the  framework  rotten  with  age.  The 
courtyard  also  was  full  of  debris,  the  nature  of 
which  it  was  hard  to  distinguish  —  rocks  and 
dirt,  the  rotting  trunks  of  trees,  flags  upheaved 
by  frost,  and  stones,  fallen  from  the  battle 
ments.  Shrubs  grew  between  the  loosened 
stones,  and  even  trees  of  considerable  size  had 
found  lodgment  in  the  exposed  soil. 

I  cannot  fitly  describe  the  drear  desolation 
the  place  presented  in  the  grim  shadow  of 
those  half  ruined  walls  shutting  out  the  sun 
shine.  The  knowledge  of  what  had  once  oc 
curred  here,  the  tragedy  of  battle  and  death, 
the  scenes  of  carnage  and  despair  witnessed 
by  those  gray  stones,  the  silence  brooding 
everywhere,  affected  me  more  than  I  can  tell. 
Soldier  though  I  was,  accustomed  to  battle 
and  bloodshed,  I  felt  almost  the  timidity  of  a 
[  122] 


WITHIN  THE  WALLS 


child  in  the  dark.  Not  only  the  spectres  of  the 
past  lurked  in  the  shadows,  but  a  present  mys 
tery  also  confronted  me.  Somewhere  amid 
these  ruins  hid  the  rider  of  that  horse,  and, 
whether  he  prove  enemy,  or  friend,  I  could 
not  remain  indifferent  to  his  presence.  My 
own  necessities  compelled  me  to  seek  him  out; 
through  friendship  or  force,  I  must  obtain  the 
use  of  the  animal.  Ay!  and  that  was  not  all! 
The  thought  had  come  to  me  that  this  might 
even  be  the  horse  stolen  from  the  village  — 
Awlright's  —  and  if  so  its  recovery  would  re 
veal  the  mystery  of  the  disappearance  of 
Mademoiselle. 

But  in  which  direction  should  I  turn  in 
search?  There  was  nothing  to  guide  me,  and 
I  must  conceal  my  own  movements  with  ut 
most  caution.  Directly  facing  the  gate  arose 
the  solid  walls  of  the  deserted  and  ruined  cas 
tle,  outwardly  showing  few  signs  of  the  wreck 
of  centuries,  although  there  were  evidences  a- 
plenty  of  fire,  and  the  great  doors  and  shut 
ters  had  disappeared.  It  was  a  massive  pile, 
not  high,  except  for  the  towers,  but  so  strongly 
[123] 


SHEA,  OF  THE  IRISH  BRIGADE 

built  from  great  blocks  of  stone  as  to  defy  de 
struction.  These  were  stained  by  wind  and 
weather;  creeping  vines  festooned  their  front, 
and  altogether  it  possessed  a  grim,  menacing 
aspect,  that  left  me  dreading  to  explore  its 
black  interior.  Stone  steps,  some  of  them 
crumbling,  so  as  to  leave  but  a  narrow  passage, 
led  upward  to  the  main  entrance,  beyond 
which  my  eyes  could  not  penetrate.  All  about, 
from  wall  to  wall  of  the  battlements,  were 
smaller  stone  structures,  all  of  them  gutted  by 
fire.  The  vacant  windows,  and  doorless  en 
trances  permitted  me  vague  glimpses  of  in 
teriors  bare  as  the  courtyard  without.  Some 
of  the  roofs  had  fallen,  and  the  floors  were 
piled  high  with  debris. 

A  glance  told  me  the  nature  and  former  use 
of  most  of  these  buildings.  Here,  close  to  the 
gate,  was  the  ancient  guardhouse,  and  on 
either  side  of  the  great  castle  itself  stood  the 
one-storied  barracks,  roofless  now,  and  more 
completely  wrecked  than  any  of  the  other 
structures.  I  could  see  the  interiors  from  side 
to  side,  and  the  trees  growing  within.  Be- 
[124] 


WITHIN  THE  WALLS 


yond  these  were  the  stables,  almost  entirely 
demolished,  and  what  might  have  been  the 
arsenal,  a  round  building,  windowless,  and  of 
solid  stone,  showing  no  sign  of  injury  except 
for  its  yawning  entrance. 

Much  had  been  destroyed,  only  the  stone 
structures  remained  intact,  survivors  of  as 
sault,  fire  and  rapine,  although  many  a  shape 
less  mound  told  where  some  less  substantial 
structure  had  once  stood.  Surrounding  all 
were  the  battlements,  massive  and  unbroken. 
Whether  or  not,  these  were  pierced  behind  the 
castle  I  could  not  judge,  but  I  saw  no  opening 
except  the  one  through  which  I  had  found 
entrance.  Nor  did  I  perceive  anywhere  a 
movement,  or  hear  a  sound,  which  told  of  any 
other  presence.  The  silence,  the  desertion  of 
the  centuries,  seemed  all  about  me.  I  knew  I 
was  not  alone;  something  within  me  sensed 
danger,  and  held  me  vigilant  and  cautious; 
and  yet,  except  for  those  hoofprints,  I  would 
never  have  believed  man  had  been  there  for 
a  hundred  years. 

But  I  could  not  remain  where  I  was  crouch- 


SHEA,  OF  THE  IRISH  BRIGADE 

ing  behind  the  walls  of  the  guardhouse.  I 
took  fresh  hold  on  courage,  and  with  teeth 
clinched  stole  forward  to  examine  the  portion 
of  courtyard  concealed  from  where  I  had  for 
merly  stood.  This  new  view  afforded  me  lit 
tle  satisfaction,  for  whatever  buildings  had 
originally  occupied  that  vacancy,  must  have 
been  of  temporary  construction,  and  had  been 
destroyed.  There  were  great  piles  of  debris 
against  the  outer  walls,  concealing  any  possi 
ble  gateway  leading  back  into  the  hills.  There 
was  indeed  a  breach,  but  far  too  high  up  to 
offer  any  possibility  of  exit.  No  hoofprints 
were  visible  anywhere. 

High  above  me  arose  the  unbroken  walls 
of  the  castle.  It  alone  furnished  sufficient  con 
cealment,  and,  although  I  could  not  compre 
hend  how  a  horse  might  be  led  up  those 
crumbling  steps,  I  could  perceive  no  other 
place  where  an  animal  might  be  safely  stabled, 
and  remain  undiscovered.  The  other  buildings 
were  such  utter  ruins,  and  choked  with  debris, 
and  filled  with  vegetable  growth,  as  to  be  im 
passible.  Besides,  the  theory  that  the  animal 
[126] 


WITHIN  THE  WALLS 


had  been  compelled  to  mount  the  solid  stone 
steps  would  alone  account  for  the  sudden  dis 
appearance  of  hoofprints.  The  dust  and  dirt 
of  the  courtyard,  had  a  turn  been  made  to 
either  right  or  left,  would  surely  have  re 
vealed  a  plain  trail,  impossible  of  conceal* 
ment.  I  could  plainly  see  where  I  had  stepped ; 
every  imprint  of  my  boot  showing  clear  and 
distinct 

Convinced  of  this,  and  feeling  confident  I 
had  not  thus  far  been  observed,  I  retraced  my 
steps  through  the  fringe  of  bushes  growing 
close  against  the  wall,  and  approaching  the 
steps.  There  were  only  four  or  five,  broad 
slabs  of  stone,  somewhat  worn  and  chipped, 
yet  so  massive  as  to  have  successfully  defied 
all  attempts  at  destruction.  One,  indeed,  had 
been  forced  aside  in  some  manner,  yet  enough 
held  in  position  to  permit  comparatively  easy 
passage.  The  wind  had  swept  these  bare  of 
dust,  so  they  betrayed  no  sign  of  recent  use. 
I  gazed  up  at  the  wide  entrance,  bare  except 
for  two  huge  iron  hinges  mortared  into  the 
wall,  and  through  into  the  gloom  beyond.  All 
[127] 


SHEA,  OF  THE  IRISH  BRIGADE 

I  could  distinguish  was  a  section  of  vaulted 
roof,  and  an  immense  timbered  beam.  With 
a  hasty  glance  about,  I  mounted  the  steps,  and 
slipped  silently  through  the  opening. 

I  found  myself  in  a  vast  hall,  stretching  the 
full  length  of  the  building,  with  three  narrow, 
but  high  windows  at  the  opposite  extremity. 
These  were  unshuttered,  and  the  light  thus  ad 
mitted  rendered  the  whole  apartment  visible. 
Yet  there  was  little  enough  to  see,  except  the 
bare  flags  composing  the  floor,  the  rounded 
arch  of  the  ceiling,  the  nature  of  which  I  was 
unable  wholly  to  determine,  and  the  stone 
benches,  some  overturned  and  broken  along 
the  side-walls.  Immense  beams,  evidently 
trunks  of  great  trees,  squared  by  the  broad- 
axe,  and  ingeniously  spliced  with  bands  of 
copper,  ran  crosswise,  close  enough  together 
so  their  combined  shadow  obscured  the  view 
above.  Darkened  by  age,  and  not  a  few  among 
them  blackened  and  charred  by  fire,  these 
added  to  the  gloom  of  the  place.  The  flames 
had  eaten  through  one  log,  and  the  two  charred 
ends  hung  dangling  nearly  to  the  floor.  Of 
[128] 


WITHIN  THE  WALLS 


furnishing  there  was  none;  not  even  a  sug 
gestion  as  to  how  this  vast  hall  was  once  dec 
orated  in  those  far  off  days  when  a  king  had 
held  proud  court  between  these  walls. 

No  doubt  vandal  hands  had  borne  away  or 
destroyed  the  gorgeous  tapestries,  the  couches 
of  leather,  the  robes  of  rare  skins,  the  glitter 
ing  armor,  with  which  once  this  space  had 
been  resplendent.  Only  the  bare  stones  re 
mained,  sombre  and  gray,  discolored  in  places 
by  smoke,  with  here  and  there  a  green  patch 
of  moss  clinging  desperately  to  the  surface. 
It  was  a  gloomy,  eerie  place,  so  desolate  as  to 
chill  the  blood,  silent  as  death,  its  vastness  en 
hanced  by  the  arched  openings  leading  from 
either  side  —  dark,  mysterious  corridors, 
stretching  far  away  past  regal  apartments, 
long  since  deserted  and  voiceless,  all  their  for 
mer  occupants  dead  and  gone. 

I  was  young,  ever  bold  enough  in  any  ven 
ture,  but  here  I  faltered,  staring  about  me  in 
the  semi-darkness,  afraid  to  advance,  awed  by 
the  silence,  and  in  dread  of  the  unknown.  It 
was  as  though  I  must  face  specters  of  the  past, 


SHEA,  OF  THE  IRISH  BRIGADE 

not  living  flesh  and  blood,  and  I  shrank  from 
my  own  imagining,  seeing  everywhere  gro 
tesque  shadows,  and  hearing  sounds  that 
thrilled  me  with  horror.  The  wind  moaned 
through  the  narrow  window  slits,  and  my 
quick  breathing  seemed  to  echo  back  from  the 
bare  walls.  Tread  softly  as  I  might  the  noise 
of  my  boots  on  the  stone  floor  was  alarming, 
and  the  slight,  unexpected  jangle  of  my  sword, 
as  I  turned  suddenly,  sent  my  heart  throb 
bing.  I  know  not  of  what  I  was  afraid ;  but  it 
seemed  as  though  phantom  hands  clutched  me, 
and  dead  lips  laughed  in  my  ears.  My  feet 
seemed  like  lead,  and  the  blood  in  my  veins 
almost  ceased  to  circulate.  Yet  I  retained  suf 
ficient  manhood  to  swear  at  this  momentary 
cowardness,  and  to  force  my  body  forward. 
It  was  as  though  I  commanded  another,  and 
compelled  obedience. 

Why  I  chose  the  opening  I  did  I  may  never 
know;  perchance  merely  because  I  faced  that 
way,  or  it  might  have  been  Fate  leading  me 
on  with  unseen  hands.  Yet  I  approached,  and, 
leaning  forward,  peered  fearfully  along  the 
[130] 


darkened  passage  leading  to  the  left.  It  was 
a  long  hallway,  some  ten  feet  in  width,  the 
roof  beyond  reach  of  my  hand,  the  floor  un 
even,  a  flight  of  stone  steps  half-way  between 
me  and  the  further  wall.  Misty  twilight  left 
the  whole  scene  ghostly,  and  obscured  details, 
for  the  single  narrow  slit  at  the  end  of  the 
passage  was  entirely  overgrown  with  vines.  I 
could  perceive  nothing  to  alarm,  no  occasion 
for  fear,  yet  I  trembled  like  a  craven  as  I  ad 
vanced,  starting  at  every  shadow. 


[131] 


CHAPTER  XI 

I  RELEASE  A  PRISONER 

COURAGE  returned  as  I  moved  forward, 
encountering  nothing  unusual.  There 
were  chambers  on  either  side;  those  to  the 
right  dark  and  unlighted,  indeed  scarcely 
more  than  cells  —  dismal  holes  in  the  wall, 
unventilated,  each  containing  only  a  stone 
sleeping  bench.  To  what  original  use  such 
miserable  quarters  could  have  been  dedicated 
it  was  difficult  to  imagine,  unless  occupied  by 
servants  or  guards.  Some  formerly  had  doors, 
for  an  occasional  hinge  remained;  huge  rem 
nants  of  iron,  roughly  hammered  out  by  hand, 
proof  of  the  massive  oaken  slabs  they  once 
were  obliged  to  support.  Not  a  fragment  of 
the  wood  remained,  although  there  were  heaps 
of  ashes. 

Other  entrances  were  arched,  possibly  at 

one  time  protected  by  heavy  curtains,  and  in 

one  of  these  cells,  considerably  larger  than  its 

fellows,  near  the  foot  of  the  steps,  was  a  rude 

[132! 


/  RELEASE  A  PRISONER 


stone  fireplace,  though  where  the  smoke  found 
egress  I  could  not  determine.  Beyond  this 
I  was  startled  to  discover  the  skeleton  of  a 
man  half  upheld  against  the  wall  apparently 
in  the  very  posture  in  which  he  had  died. 
These  investigations  were  carried  on  more  by 
sense  of  touch  than  sight,  the  dim  light  af 
fording  but  slight  assistance.  Yet  I  was  too 
practiced  a  soldier  to  venture  forward  with 
out  assurance  no  enemy  hid  in  the  rear,  for 
it  was  the  living  and  not  the  dead  whom  I 
had  cause  to  fear. 

On  the  opposite  side,  however,  there  was 
more  light,  the  apartments  being  spacious  and 
of  much  greater  interest,  although  equally 
barren  of  furnishing  and  decoration.  Indeed 
I  could  expect  nothing  of  such  sort  to  re 
main,  even  in  ragged  remnant,  for  had  it  es 
caped  the  sack  —  the  rapine  of  foul  hands 
—  the  lapse  of  time  alone  would  have  left  but 
rotting  shreds,  or  heaps  of  dust.  Yet  I  could 
perceive  where  tapestries  had  hung,  and  in 
one  apartment  found  by  chance  the  spring  of 
a  secret  door  that  opened  on  a  stair  down 
[133] 


SHEA,  OF  THE  IRISH  BRIGADE 

which  I  stared  into  pitch  darkness,  imagining 
I  could  hear  the  faint  trickle  of  water  far 
below. 

Beyond  this  room,  the  connection  an  arched 
doorway,  was  an  apartment  almost  circular 
in  form,  with  a  stone  basin  in  the  center,  sur 
rounded  by  steps,  no  doubt  a  bath,  although  I 
could  trace  no  entrance  of  water  pipes.  These 
rooms  had  high  windows,  protected  without 
by  rusted  iron  bars  set  solidly  in  the  stone. 
The  floors  were  stained  and  discolored.  Be 
yond  the  bath  the  apartments  were  smaller; 
although  spacious  enough  to  be  regal,  if  fur 
nished,  and  hung  with  drapery,  as  I  imagined 
they  once  were,  the  ceilings  high,  and  the 
floors  curiously  inlaid  with  various  colored 
stones.  So  far  as  I  could  perceive  there  had 
been  no  serious  destruction  by  fire  here,  but 
the  clipped  walls  exhibited  signs  of  violence, 
while  not  a  shred  remained  in  evidence  of 
old  time  occupants.  The  barrenness  was  de 
pressing,  the  whole  place  seemed  like  a  char- 
nal  house,  filled  with  ghosts  and  hideous 
memories. 

[i34] 


/  RELEASE  A  PRISONER 


I  stood  again  in  the  dimly-lit  hall  at  the 
foot  of  the  flight  of  stairs,  feeling  the  futility 
of  further  search  in  that  direction  and  al 
most  convinced  the  ruin  was  uninhabited.  Not 
for  years,  so  far  as  I  could  see,  had  even  chance 
visitors  invaded  these  silent  rooms.  Nowhere 
in  the  dust  appeared  the  imprint  of  a  foot,  or 
the  slightest  evidence  of  human  presence.  The 
silence  was  profound,  impressive.  I  could 
count  my  heart  beats.  Surely  there  was  noth 
ing  more  to  seek,  or  discover,  along  that  de 
serted  passage  —  only  similar  bare,  desolate 
rooms,  and  perchance  other  skeletons  to  yield 
thrills  of  horror.  Yet  I  crept  on  up  the  stair 
that  I  might  gain  a  glimpse  of  what  was  be 
yond,  before  turning  back. 

At  first  glance  I  perceived  nothing  other 
than  what  had  greeted  me  below  —  then  I 
stared  wonderingly  at  an  iron  door  —  an  iron 
door  closed  by  an  oaken  bar.  Surely  the  cen 
turies  had  never  left  that  untouched.  Here 
was  something  modern,  an  evidence  of  liv 
ing  man!  I  slipped  along  the  wall,  alert  once 
more,  and  cautious,  until  I  could  reach  the 
[i35l 


SHEA,  OF  THE  IRISH  BRIGADE 

wood  with  my  hand.  Until  then  I  had  al 
most  distrusted  my  eyes,  but  with  contact  be 
came  convinced  it  had  been  freshly  cut,  and 
fitted  to  the  sockets.  I  stood  breathlessly  lis 
tening,  my  ear  close  to  the  iron  barrier.  As 
I  lived  there  was  movement  within  —  the  faint 
scuffling  of  feet  on  the  stone  floor,  the  clear 
ing  of  a  dry  throat,  the  rattle  of  a  small  chain. 
Something  told  me  the  prisoner  within  was  a 
man,  and  I  drew  my  sword  so  as  not  to  be 
taken  unawares,  should  he  prove  free  and  des 
perate.  Then,  noiselessly  as  possible,  I  lifted 
the  stout  wooden  bar  from  the  sockets,  set  it 
down  against  the  wall,  and  swung  open  the 
heavy  door. 

What  I  beheld  left  me  poised  in  the  en 
trance,  the  point  of  my  blade  dropped,  my 
eyes  surveying  the  interior.  There  was  suf 
ficient  light  streaming  in  through  the  bars 
of  a  high,  narrow  slit  in  the  wall,  to  enable 
me  to  perceive  every  detail  at  a  glance :  a  great 
carved  chair  of  oak,  massive  in  its  frame,  but 
sadly  hacked  and  splintered;  a  stone  couch 
covered  by  a  huge  skin ;  a  litter  of  straw  in  one 
[136] 


/  RELEASE  A  PRISONER 


corner,  and  a  round  block  of  wood,  the  butt  of 
a  log,  on  which  rested  a  pewter  platter  con 
taining  food  and  a  panikin  of  water.  Stand 
ing  facing  me,  at  the  full  length  of  a  chain, 
was  a  man  with  hair  disheveled  and  un 
combed,  his  beard  black  and  straggling,  his 
dress  an  undershirt  and  a  pair  of  military 
trousers.  I  stared  into  his  eyes,  unable  to 
speak,  at  first  glance  believing  him  insane.  I 
saw  his  lips  move  helplessly,  then  the  words 
came  tremblingly  in  French : 

"  Monsieur!    Oh,  MonDieu!   Monsieur!  " 
"  Yes,"  I  answered  swiftly,  "  you  are  a  pris 
oner?" 

"A  week  —  a  year  —  I  know  not;  I  have 
not  the  words  to  explain,  Monsieur.  You  are 
a  man?  a  Frenchman?  a  soldier?" 

"Ay,  of  the  Irish  Brigade  —  and  you?" 
"  Of  the  Regiment  of  Touraine." 
Our  hands  met,  and  he  clung  to  mine  con 
vulsively,  his  eyes  full  of  tears. 

"  The  good  God  must  have  sent  you,  Mon 
sieur,"  he  went  on  falteringly.    "  There  was 
no  hope  —  none!     It  is  not  that  I  am  not 
[i37] 


SHEA,  OF  THE  IRISH  BRIGADE 

brave,  Monsieur,  I,  Emil  Gassier.  I  was  a 
captain  in  the  campaign  of  Italy,  and  wear  the 
medal.  Non!  non!  but  the  chain!  the  bare 
wall!  the 'Fire  Devils'!" 

"  The  what!  "  and  I  started  back  from  him 
in  sudden  horror.  "  What  Fire  Devils?  Not 
the  foul  brood  of  La  Porte?  " 

"  If  no,  then  the  black  villains  lie.  I  have 
not  seen  their  master,  yet  those  who  have  tor 
tured  me  are  well  worthy  to  serve  him.  And 
why  not,  Monsieur?  Is  not  this  the  country 
from  whence  they  first  came  —  this  St.  Quen- 
tin?" 

Ay,  so  it  was,  and  I  glanced  about  appre 
hensively,  unable  to  control  the  sudden  spasm 
of  fear  which  swept  over  my  body.  This  was 
something  real,  tangible;  no  phantoms  of  im 
agination  those  ruffians,  but  flesh  and  blood, 
yet  with  a  reputation  for  devilish  cruelty  and 
malignant  murder  sufficient  to  make  the  blood 
run  cold.  They  were  the  pitiless  scourge  of 
France,  with  branches  everywhere,  even  in 
Paris,  but  originally  coming  forth  from  this 
province  of  St.  Quentin.  Who  they  were  no 
[138] 


/  RELEASE  A  PRISONER 


one  seemed  to  know  —  a  lawless  organization 
of  peasants,  led,  no  doubt,  by  some  genius  of 
crime  for  purposes  of  his  own,  desperate  men, 
hesitating  at  no  outrage,  and  waging  cease 
less  war  against  society  and  government  with 
the  firebrand  as  weapon.  With  them  it  had 
ever  been  night  work  —  swift,  merciless,  re 
vengeful. 

There  were  stories  floating  about  of  torture, 
of  prisoners  held  for  ransom,  of  unmention 
able  cruelties  perpetrated  on  helpless  victims. 
And  France,  struggling  against  the  allies, 
every  man  needed  at  the  front,  could  accom 
plish  little  in  the  suppression  of  such  banditti. 
A  few  had  been  captured  —  more  by  accident 
than  otherwise  —  miserable  creatures,  ragged 
and  half-starved,  but  the  leaders  remained 
free,  and  laughed  at  the  impotency  of  the 
government.  They  ravaged  whole  districts, 
operating  almost  as  if  under  some  form  of 
military  discipline,  leaving  devastation  and 
death  behind,  and  the  sky  reddened  by  flame. 
Their  chief,  known  only  as  La  Porte,  kept  his 
identity  concealed  —  indeed  it  was  reported 
[139] 


SHEA,  OF  THE  IRISH  BRIGADE 

that  not  one  of  his  followers  had  ever  beheld 
his  face.  But  that  he  was  a  veritable  monster 
of  cruelty,  a  genius  at  crime,  was  unques 
tioned.  All  this  flashed  across  my  mind  in 
stantly  as  I  stared  at  Gassier,  convinced  al 
ready  that  he  spoke  the  truth. 

"  How  came  you  a  prisoner  to  these 
devils?" 

"  I  was  guarding  a  wagon  train,  Monsieur, 
with  twenty  soldiers,  and  they  ambuscaded  us 
at  night  in  the  wood  of  Le  Nouviou.  It  was 
all  over  like  that,"  and  he  snapped  his  fingers. 
"  I  saw  not  one  of  my  men  after  the  first  fire, 
but  I  was  wounded  and  fell.  There  were 
many  who  attacked  us,  maybe  fifty,  but  only 
a  few  had  guns." 

"What  then?" 

"  They  looted  the  wagons,  and  burned  them. 
In  the  firelight  I  was  found  alive,  and  would 
have  been  killed  but  for  the  fellow,  who 
seemed  to  command  —  a  big  giant  of  a  man, 
with  gray  beard.  He  recognized  me  as  an 
officer,  and  made  his  rabble  hold  me  prisoner 
for  ransom.  Two  nights  I  traveled  on  horse- 
[140] 


/  RELEASE  A  PRISONER 


back  until  we  came  here.  There  were  with 
me  only  the  graybeard  and  five  others.  I 
know  not  what  became  of  the  rest." 

"  You  came  on  a  horse  then,"  I  exclaimed. 
"  It  was  his  hoofprints  I  saw  at  the  edge  of  the 
causeway." 

"  Where,  Monsieur?  " 

"  Before  the  gate:  at  the  end  of  the  draw 
bridge." 

He  shook  his  head. 

"  No ;  I  was  dismounted  beyond  the  walls, 
and  driven  here  on  foot.  It  was  dark,  and  I 
could  see  little  for  they  struck  me  if  I  came 
to  a  halt.  Perhaps  the  hoofprints  you  found 
were  left  last  night." 

"What  happened  then?" 

"  I  do  not  know,  Monsieur.  The  man  who 
brings  me  food  will  not  speak  a  word.  But 
I  woke  up  once  to  hear  voices  outside.  It 
was  dark  and  still  as  a  tomb,  yet  I  heard  a 
man  swear,  and  a  woman  cry  out  as  though 
hurt.  That  was  all  except  a  scuffle  and  a  blow. 
I  lay  awake  a  long  while,  but  there  was  no 
other  sound." 

[HI] 


SHEA,  OF  THE  IRISH  BRIGADE 

"  No  one  passed  along  this  corridor?  " 

"I  think  not,  Monsieur;  I  should  have 
heard  if  they  had." 

"The  words  they  spoke  were  French?  the 
man  swore  in  that  tongue?  " 

"  Yes,  Monsieur." 

There  was  not  so  much  as  a  doubt  left  in 
my  mind  as  to  whom  the  unfortunate  woman 
was.  Beyond  question  it  must  be  Mademoi 
selle  d'Enville  who  had  fallen  into  the  hands 
of  these  wretches.  So  assured  was  I  of  this 
fact  that  knowledge  of  her  predicament,  the 
probability  that  she  was  being  held  prisoner 
somewhere  amid  these  ruins,  served  to  banish 
all  personal  fear.  I  was  there  to  serve  and 
save  her,  and  it  counted  but  little  what  might 
happen  to  me,  or  this  captain  of  Touraine. 
He  must  have  read  the  change  of  purpose  in 
my  face. 

"  What  is  it,  Monsieur?  you  have  a  plan  to 
carry  out,  and  at  once?  " 

"No,  not  yet;  only  a  purpose.  Here,  take 
this  knife,  and  pry  apart  a  link  in  your  chain. 
Ay,  it  is  good  steel,  and  will  stand  the  work. 
[142] 


/  RELEASE  A  PRISONER 


The  food  here  —  may  I  share  it?  I  am  nearly 
famished." 

He  sank  back  onto  the  floor  and  fell  to  test 
ing  the  links,  barely  glancing  aside  at  me  as 
he  gave  answer : 

"  Eat  as  you  will ;  I  want  none  of  it." 

I  watched  him,  as  I  ate  hurriedly,  my  mind 
busy  enough,  and  wondering  what  sort  of  a 
comrade  he  would  prove  when  the  test  came. 
He  was  a  tall,  angular  fellow,  yet  with  strength 
enough,  and  a  homely  face,  somewhat  freck 
led,  and  oddly  shaped  at  the  mouth.  But  I 
liked  his  eyes,  which  were  brown  and  full  of 
audacity. 

"  When  does  your  jailer  visit  you?  "  I  asked. 

"  Once  a  day;  those  things  were  placed  there 
an  hour  ago." 

"  Then  he  will  still  be  in  the  castle?  " 

He  shrugged  his  shoulders,  pressing  hard 
on  the  blade. 

"  That  I  know  not;  he  comes  and  goes  with 
never  a  word.  He  is  a  negro,  and  may  be 
dumb." 

I  waited  until  he  slipped  the  link  apart,  and 


SHEA,  OF  THE  IRISH  BRIGADE 

let  the  end  of  the  chain  fall  to  the  floor;  then 
turned  so  I  could  look  into  his  face. 

"  Now  listen,  Captain  Gassier,"  I  said  ear 
nestly.  "  This  is  no  longer  merely  a  question 
as  to  whether  we  get  safely  out  of  the  clutches 
of  these  wretches,  or  not.  That  is  as  it  may 
be;  but  we  must  decide  now  whether  we're 
ready  to  do  our  duty  as  soldiers  and  gentle 


men." 


His  eyes  widened  in  astonishment. 

"You  mean  fight  the  fellows?" 

"Ay!  if  necessary,  although  we'll  try  first 
what  can  be  accomplished  by  wit  and  good 
luck.  We  cannot  leave  a  woman  in  their 
hands." 

"  A  peasant  hussy  —  some  plaything  of  the 
camps." 

"  No,  not  if  my  guess  be  right  —  but  a  lady 
of  quality,  Mademoiselle  d'Enville." 

"Who?" 

"  Camille  d'Enville." 

He  chuckled  heartily,  and  the  sound  an 
gered  me. 

"Oh,  ho!  the  king's  dainty  lady!  That 
[i44] 


/  RELEASE  A  PRISONER 


means  a  pretty  ransom  for  the  scoundrels  —  a 
rare  chance  at  Louis'  private  purse." 

"Enough  of  that!"  I  interrupted  sternly, 
already  on  my  feet.  "  Now  see  here,  Captain 
Gassier,  pay  heed  to  me,  or  you  are  likely  to 
find  this  no  laughing  matter.  'T  is  true  Made 
moiselle  is  one  of  the  ladies  of  the  court,  and 
has  received  favor  of  the  king.  Yet  what  of 
that?  I  have  been  at  Paris  and  at  court,  but 
never  to  hear  her  name  lightly  spoken  by  any 
lip  before.  Nor  am  I  of  a  mind  to  listen  qui 
etly  now.  If  you  seek  quarrel  there  is  no 
easier  way,  for  to  my  thought  the  reputation 
of  the  lady  is  well  worthy  swordplay." 

"  I  meant  nothing,  you  young  hot-head," 
he  muttered,  striving  to  control  his  own  tem 
per,  which,  I  suspicion,  was  quick  enough. 
"  'T  is  only  that  rumor  has  it  that  Louis  holds 
her  in  high  esteem,  and  would  pay  well  for 
her  safety." 

"  Then  we  will  serve  Louis,  and  you  may 
claim  the  reward  of  his  gratitude.    As  for  me 
to  aid  the  lady  will  be  enough.    Let  me  tell 
you  first  my  own  story." 
[i45  I 


CHAPTER  XII 

IN  THE  BANQUET  HALL 

CAREFUL  to  make  brief  reference  as  to 
why  I  had  fled  from  the  French  camp, 
I  reviewed  swiftly  the  details  of  the  past  night. 
He  listened  eagerly  enough,  asking  a  num 
ber  of  questions,  and,  at  the  end  of  the  narra 
tive,  agreed  with  my  conclusion  that  it  would 
probably  be  Mademoiselle  who  was  thus  held 
prisoner.  By  this  time,  spurred  possibly  by 
the  thought  of  the  king's  gratitude,  the  cap 
tain  seemed  as  interested  as  myself  in  an  at 
tempt  to  discover  her  place  of  concealment. 
Yet  he  knew  even  less  than  I  did  of  the  ruined 
castle,  or  whether  it  was  occupied  by  any  con 
siderable  number  of  men.  He  had  been  vis 
ited  only  by  the  negro  who  refused  to  utter 
even  a  word,  and  seen  no  one  but  those  mis 
creants  who  thrust  him  there. 

However,  we  agreed  upon  the  probabil 
ity  that  a  guard  of  some  kind  remained  in 
[146] 


/2V  THE  BANQUET  HALL 


the  place,  yet  it  was  my  belief  that  they  used 
some  more  secret  entrance  than  the  widely- 
open  front  gate  —  some  passage  leading  in 
through  the  hills  at  the  rear,  by  means  of 
which  they  could  approach  and  depart  unob 
served.  If  this  was  the  rendezvous  of  the  gang 
—  or  even  merely  utilized  as  their  prison, 
wherein  safely  to  hold  victims  for  ransom,  the 
secret  would  be  guarded  well,  and  there  must 
be  more  or  less  passing  back  and  forth  of  both 
men  and  horses.  Yet  there  was  no  beaten  trail 
along  the  front  causeway,  no  evidence  in  the 
courtyard  that  it  was  ever  traversed.  To  be 
sure  the  ruffians  had  little  to  fear  from  the 
surrounding  peasantry,  doubtless  allied  with 
them,  and  in  full  sympathy  with  their  guer 
rilla  tactics,  but  both  contending  armies  were 
close  at  hand,  patrolling  the  roads,  and  occu 
pying  the  villages,  and,  whether  French,  or 
allies,  would  alike  hold  such  banditti  ene 
mies. 

We  talked  it  over  briefly  enough,  only  to 
arrive  at  the  decision  to  explore  cautiously, 
and  thus  learn  all  that  was  possible,  before 
[i47] 


SHEA,  OF  THE  IRISH  BRIGADE 

planning  any  bolder  action.  Gassier  was  with 
out  arms,  but  retained  my  knife,  thrusting  it 
into  his  belt  and  expressing  an  eagerness  to 
be  off.  Together  we  stepped  out  into  the  cor 
ridor,  and  silently  closed  the  iron  door  behind 
us.  Only  a  few  rooms  remained  unexplored 
along  that  passage,  yet  I  insisted  on  visiting  all 
before  retracing  our  steps  to  the  main  hall. 
We  found  them  bare  and  unoccupied,  al 
though  one  had  a  barred  door,  and  may  at 
some  time  have  contained  a  prisoner;  indeed 
there  were  rags  on  the  floor,  bearing  some 
semblance  of  a  uniform,  together  with  a  straw 
litter.  Convinced,  however,  that  further 
search  was  useless,  and  discovering  no  cross 
passage,  we  cautiously  retraced  our  steps  back 
to  the  entrance.  Now  that  I  had  a  compan 
ion  by  my  side,  I  no  longer  felt  the  dread 
silence  of  the  place,  or  its  desolate  barren 
ness.  Not  ghosts,  but  blood-thirsty  men, 
haunted  these  corridors,  and  my  whole  thought 
concentrated  on  the  discovery  of  their  pres 
ence.  I  heard  Cassier's  gasp  of  astonishment 
as  he  stared  up  at  the  vaulted  ceiling,  and  sur- 
[148] 


IN  THE  BANQUET  HALL 


veyed  the  immensity  of  the  hall  which  had 
so  impressed  me  when  I  first  entered. 

"  Saint  Denis  1  'tis  no  small  ruin  this,  my 
Irish  friend,"  he  whispered,  awe-struck. 
"  Know  you  aught  of  its  history?  " 

"Only  a  bit;  'twas  a  ruin  three  centuries 
ago,  sacked  by  a  mob  of  mutinous  soldiery 
from  Paris.  The  king  sought  refuge  here, 
fleeing  with  his  court  and  guards  when  the 
people  rebelled.  I  have  no  memory  of  the 
cause,  but  't  is  said  he  died  like  a  gallant  gen 
tleman,  sword  in  hand,  in  the  big  banquet 
hall  above,  and  many  a  knight  and  lady  died 
with  him.  Then  was  the  castle  given  over  to 
the  axe  and  torch,  and  left  a  shell  of  gray 


stone." 


"And  'tis  called  what?" 

"  Roisel  —  but  come,  we  cannot  stand  gape- 
ing  here.  Take  that  corridor  yonder,  while 
I  explore  this  one.  Be  careful  —  this  is  no 
boy's  play,  although  I  have  small  expectation 
of  finding  those  devils  here." 

He  disappeared  down  the  passage  I  pointed 
out,  while  I  chose  the  one  beyond,  but,  when 


SHEA,  OF  THE  IRISH  BRIGADE 

we  met  again,  neither  had  much  to  report,  ex 
cept  that  he  had  picked  up  the  rusted  head  of 
an  old  battle-axe.  There  were  two  other  nar 
row  hallways  we  explored  before  we  finally 
came  to  the  great  stairs.  Beyond  these,  which 
we  passed  by,  resolved  first  to  make  certain  of 
the  entire  lower  floor  before  venturing  above, 
we  arrived  at  what  must  have  been  the  kitch 
ens,  and  storerooms.  The  latter  were  black 
and  windowless,  but  the  former  proved  exten 
sive  enough,  although  gutted  by  fire,  and  ex 
hibiting  no  evidence  of  late  use.  There  were 
two  vast  fireplaces,  but  both  chimneys  were 
choked  with  dislodged  stones,  and  the  floors 
strewn  with  powdered  ashes.  In  these  were 
no  imprint  of  feet,  and  we  realized  at  a  glance 
that  no  one  had  been  there  for  years.  The 
windows,  protected  by  bars  of  iron,  were  lower 
than  those  at  the  front  of  the  castle,  and  curi 
osity  led  me  to  cross  over,  and  glance  out  into 
the  courtyard  below.  At  first  I  perceived 
nothing  more  interesting  than  the  gray  stone 
outer  wall,  broken  down  in  places,  and  re 
vealing  the  forest  clad  hills  beyond.  Shrubs 
[150] 


IN  THE  BANQUET  HALL 


clung  to  the  crevices,  and  trees  protruded 
above  the  summit,  yielding  to  it  all  the  pic- 
turesqueness  of  utter  ruin. 

Then  my  eyes  focused  on  a  single-storied 
building,  the  walls  of  stone,  the  roof  thatched 
with  straw,  half-hidden  under  the  wall 
shadow.  It  was  the  roof,  evidently  newly 
covered,  which  first  riveted  my  attention,  and 
I  had  stared  at  it  for  fully  a  minute,  doubt 
ing  my  eyes,  before  I  distinguished  a  group  of 
men  barely  visible  beyond  the  entrance.  There 
was  a  growth  of  shrub  concealing  their  pres 
ence,  and  had  not  one  fellow  risen  to  his  feet 
and  entered  the  door,  I  doubt  if  I  would  have 
observed  their  presence.  I  motioned  with  one 
hand  for  my  companion  to  join  me. 

"  See  yonder,"  I  said,  gripping  his  shoul 
der,  and  pointing  through  the  bars,  "  where 
the  great  breach  is  in  the  wall  —  a  dozen  men 
are  there  sitting  about  a  fire." 

We  both  looked  in  silence,  and  I  could  hear 
his  quick  breathing. 

"  Ay! "  he  said,  at  last,  "  those  are  the  vil 
lains.  There  must  be  an  opening  in  the  wall 
[151] 


SHEA,  OF  THE  IRISH  BRIGADE 

to  their  back.    Can  you  make  aught  of  them. 
My  eyes  fail  me  at  the  distance." 

"  Little  enough;  only  they  are  not  soldiers. 
The  fellow  who  went  inside,  however,  wore  a 
cavalry  jacket  —  ah!  there  he  is  now  —  the 
leader  likely." 

I  felt  Cassier's  hand  grip  my  arm. 

"  'T  is  the  same  big  brute  who  brought  me 
here,"  he  whispered.  "  Can  you  count  the 
others?" 

"  Ten  within  sight,  but  there  may  be  more 
behind  the  angle  of  the  wall.  Ay!  there  's  an 
other  now  —  a  messenger." 

The  newcomer,  slender  as  a  boy,  dressed 
only  in  ragged  shirt  and  trousers,  and  bare 
headed,  stood  before  the  fellow  in  cavalry 
jacket,  talking  and  gesticulating.  The  words 
were  indistinguishable,  indeed  we  could  barely 
hear  the  sound  of  a  voice.  In  response  the 
giant  said  something  briefly,  and  three  men  in 
stantly  left  the  group,  and  disappeared  in 
company  with  the  messenger.  The  leader  re 
mained,  leaning  carelessly  in  the  doorway.  I 
turned,  and  gazed  into  the  face  of  Cassier. 
[152] 


IN  THE  BANQUET  HALL 


"  And  how  do  you  figure  it  all  out,  Mon 
sieur?  "  he  asked  doubtfully. 

"  In  this  way.  The  castle  is  used  by  these 
robbing  villains  as  headquarters,  where  they 
hide  from  pursuit,  and  confine  their  prison 
ers.  They  are  safe  enough  here,  for,  no  doubt, 
the  place  has  the  reputation  of  being  haunted, 
and  no  one  living  in  the  neighborhood  will 
even  venture  near.  That  is  why  they  need  no 
guard  at  the  front.  'T  is  likely  they  play  ghost 
at  times  themselves,  whenever  they  have  cause 
to  fear  discovery.  Below  is  the  nucleus  of 
the  gang,  and  the  others  join  them  whenever 
needed  —  there  are  plenty  ready  to  share  in 
the  spoil." 

"  And  what  shall  we  do?  " 

"  Complete  our  search,  of  course.  Would 
you  leave  prisoners  helpless  in  their  hands? 
There  must  be  others  hidden  away  here  some 
where  —  the  woman,  at  least.  'T  will  be  safer 
for  us  to  wait  until  dark  before  departing,  and 
you  say  the  negro  jailer  makes  but  one  visit  a 
day." 

"  'T  is  all  —  but,  who  knows?  " 
[153] 


SHEA,  OF  THE  IRISH  BRIGADE 

"  We  take  the  chance.  These  fellows  be 
low  suspect  nothing,  and  would  seem  to  have 
other  plans  on  foot.  If  there  be  no  guard  here 
't  is  scarcely  probable  any  are  posted  on  the 
floor  above.  We  are  free  to  explore,  with 
small  peril.  I  would  make  use  of  what  day 
light  remains." 

I  glanced  forth  again,  paying  small  heed 
to  what  he  muttered  in  reply,  assured  in  my 
own  mind  that  the  man  would  remain  beside 
me.  The  big  leader  had  disappeared  within, 
no  doubt  to  concoct  some  fresh  villainy,  but 
the  group  of  men  still  rested  idly  about  the 
fire,  their  very  attitudes  evidencing  uncon 
cern.  There  was  no  reason  why  we  should 
remain  watching  them. 

Gassier  followed  me  back  into  the  corridor, 
to  the  foot  of  the  stairs  without  protest.  No 
doubt  he  read  determination  in  my  face,  and 
had  no  wish  to  be  left  alone.  But  whatever 
might  have  been  his  motive,  no  mere  curi 
osity  inspired  me  to  further  exploration.  I 
expected  to  find  above  the  same  barren  soli 
tude  revealed  by  those  cell-like  rooms  below 
[i54l 


IN  THE  BANQUET  HALL 


—  gray  stone  walls,  fire  blackened,  the  floors 
covered  with  the  undisturbed  dust  of  centuries. 
There  was  scarcely  a  hope  left  in  my  mind 
that  Mademoiselle  —  if,  indeed,  she  proved 
the  woman  whose  voice  Gassier  had  heard  — 
would  be  imprisoned  anywhere  within  the 
building.  If  she  was  captive  to  these  ruffians 
it  was  far  more  likely  that  she  was  under 
guard  yonder;  yet  I  must  know,  know  posi 
tively;  never  would  I  be  content  to  achieve  my 
own  escape  without  first  assuring  myself  as 
to  her  presence,  and  the  possibility  of  again 
serving  her.  To  do  less  would  be  a  stain  on 
honor,  even  had  I  felt  no  personal  interest  in 
the  lady  herself.  And  I  did  feel  such  inter 
est.  I  made  no  attempt  to  analyze  my  feel 
ing,  to  even  reflect  upon  what  it  might  mean, 
yet  I  was  fully  conscious  that  already  she  was 
more  to  me  than  any  other  woman  had  ever 
been.  Her  face  remained  in  my  memory,  and 
the  very  thought  of  her  quickened  the  beat  of 
my  pulse.  Her  gratitude,  a  word  of  praise 
from  her  lips,  a  smile  of  welcome  in  her  dark 
eyes,  would  be  sufficient  reward  to  me  for  any 
[i55l 


SHEA,  OF  THE  IRISH  BRIGADE 

sacrifice,  and,  not  even  at  the  cost  of  my  life 
would  I  desert  her  now  to  the  violence  of  such 
wretches.  Gassier  could  do  as  he  pleased,  but 
I  meant  to  search  every  inch  of  these  ruins  — 
yes,  and  remain  here  until  I  learned  the  truth. 
The  stairs  were  composed  of  broad  stone 
flags,  somewhat  hollowed  by  the  passage  of 
mailed  feet,  but  still  staunch  and  sound  enough 
to  upbear  an  army.  Whatever  handrail  there 
might  have  been  originally  had  long  since  dis 
appeared,  yet  the  width  of  the  steps  rendered 
the  passage  safe  enough,  in  spite  of  the  dim 
light,  and  the  appearance  of  darkness  above. 
I  led  the  way,  grasping  the  scabbard  of  my 
sword  to  keep  it  from  striking  against  the 
stone,  aware  that  the  captain  followed.  At  the 
top  we  found  ourselves  plunged  into  semi- 
darkness,  through  which  we  could  distinguish 
our  immediate  surroundings  only  with  diffi 
culty.  The  floor  was  of  oaken  timber,  black 
ened  by  age,  yet  exhibiting  no  especial  evi 
dence  of  decay.  It  had  even  resisted  fire, 
although  there  were  places  where  the  ancient 
flames  had  burned  deep  before  dying  out,  while 
[156] 


IN  THE  BANQUET  HALL 


heaps  of  ashes  proved  clearly  how  all  former 
furnishings  had  been  completely  destroyed. 
It  was  a  scene  of  utter  ruin,  yet  I  stared  about 
fascinated.  What  light  there  was  came  from 
above,  but  the  openings,  which  no  doubt  had 
originally  flooded  that  interior  with  sunshine, 
were  now  almost  completely  covered  over  with 
vines,  through  which  only  an  occasional  ray 
penetrated. 

I  groped  my  way  forward  from  the  stair 
head,  fearful  of  the  burnt  spots  in  the  floor, 
and  hampered  by  the  piles  of  debris.  At  first, 
in  the  dimness  of  light,  I  was  obliged  to  touch 
objects  with  my  hand,  before  fully  determin 
ing  their  nature,  but  as  I  thus  slowly  advanced, 
my  eyes  better  accustomed  themselves  to  the 
gloom,  and  I  could  perceive  more  of  our  sur 
roundings.  We  were  in  a  vast  hall  —  larger 
even  than  that  below,  but  with  lower  ceiling 
—  a  huge  apartment,  appearing  almost  mon 
strous  indeed  in  its  bare  nakedness,  the  only 
relief  being  indestructible  stone  benches 
ranged  along  the  side  walls,  and  an  immense 
fireplace  at  the  farther  end.  Opposite  this, 
[i57] 


SHEA,  OF  THE  IRISH  BRIGADE 

and  close  by  the  stair-head,  was  a  stone  dais, 
three  steps  high,  projecting  slightly  from  out 
an  arch  in  the  wall.  Several  openings,  arched 
over  by  massive  oak  timbers,  yawned  to  right 
and  left,  leading  to  contiguous  rooms,  but  the 
center  of  the  vast  apartment  was  bare. 

Beyond  question  this  had  been  the  main  ban 
quet  hall.  Here,  driven  up  the  wide  stairs, 
all  that  remained  of  that  ancient  garrison  had 
gathered  gallantly  in  defense  of  their  king. 
Here  they  had  died,  fighting  valiantly  to  the 
last,  and,  on  those  dais  steps,  their  leader  fell, 
his  blood  staining  the  stone.  I  could  seem  to 
hear  the  crash  of  steel,  the  shouts  of  hate  and 
defiance,  the  shrieks  of  fleeing  women,  the 
cries  for  mercy,  with  which  those  walls  had 
once  echoed.  I  could  see  once  more  the  faces 
agonized  with  fright,  stern  with  determina 
tion,  hideous  with  ferocity  —  the  mob  of 
blood-crazed  assailants  rushing  about  in  search 
of  more  victims,  dragging  the  tapestry  from 
the  walls,  and  endeavoring  to  destroy  by  fire 
whatever  could  not  be  hacked  with  their  steel. 

Half  terrorized  myself  at  this  picture  of  ra- 
[158] 


IN  THE  BANQUET  HALL 


pine,  feeling  almost  convinced  that  ghosts  of 
that  old  day  must  still  haunt  the  gloomy  shad- 
dows,  I  found  a  passage  across  the  blackened 
floor,  and  around  the  stone  step  of  the  dais. 
Then  I  stopped,  clutching  at  Gassier,  and  star 
ing  down  at  a  dead  body. 


[159] 


CHAPTER  XIII 

THE  SECRET  STAIRS 

THE  man  lay  on  his  face,  one  arm  out 
stretched  over  the  first  step,  the  other  be 
neath  his  body.  Beyond  him  rested  the  broken 
blade  of  a  sword,  and  his  head  had  been 
crushed  in  as  though  struck  by  an  iron  bar. 
The  discovery  for  the  instant  left  me  speech 
less;  it  seemed  something  born  of  the  imagina 
tion  a  phantom  of  the  mind.  Then  Gassier  ex 
claimed: 

"  Saint  Helene!  'T  is  the  uniform  of  the 
Regiment  de  Roil  Mon  Dieu!  how  came  the 
man  here?  " 

The  words  aroused  me  to  reality,  and  I 
stopped,  and  turned  the  dead  man's  face  up  to 
the  dim  light.  He  was  a  man  of  middle  age, 
of  dark,  grimy  complexion,  a  prominent  nose 
which  had  been  broken,  and  deeply  set  eyes. 
A  scraggly  beard  covered  his  cheeks,  and  his 
hair  was  matted  and  coarse.  The  corpse  was 
[160] 


THE  SECRET  STAIRS 


indeed  clothed  in  the  uniform  of  the  Regi 
ment  du  Roi  —  an  officer's  uniform  —  but  the 
wearer  had  been  no  officer,  no  soldier  even. 
His  face,  his  unkempt  appearance,  were  suf- 
ficent  evidence  to  convince  me  of  that  at  first 
glance.  Then  what  was  he  doing  here,  dead, 
garbed  in  that  blue  and  gold  finery?  From 
what  hapless  victim  had  he  stripped  these 
clothes?  and  how  had  fate  finally  overtaken 
him?  My  eyes  met  those  of  Gassier. 

"  'T  is  no  soldier  that!"  he  said,  pointing 
downward. 

"No;"  I  answered  shortly.  "His  is  the 
face  of  a  villain  if  ever  I  saw  one,  Monsieur. 
But  how  came  he  here,  togged  out  in  an  offi 
cer's  suit?  and  who  dealt  him  the  death  blow? 
Saint  Denis!  there  must  be  others  besides  us 
skulking  in  these  ruins." 

"  Ay! "  and  he  bent  down  to  touch  the  fel 
low  gingerly,  "  and  it  happened  not  long  since 
—  the  blood  has  not  even  hardened ;  see." 

It  was  true  as  he  said,  but  there  was  nothing 
visible  about  us  in  evidence  of  human  pres 
ence.  Dim  as  the  light  showed,  I  could  still 
[161] 


SHEA,  OF  THE  IRISH  BRIGADE 

see  the  full  length  of  the  great  hall,  and  there 
was  nothing  there  to  cast  even  shadows  —  the 
silence  so  profound  that  even  our  whispers 
came  back  in  echo.  Yet  assured  as  I  was  that 
we  were  alone,  and  unobserved ;  that  the  slayer 
had  already  fled,  there  lingered  in  my  mind 
the  impression  that  we  were  watched  —  that 
somewhere  along  those  blank,  bare  walls  an 
eye  followed  our  every  movement.  It  was  an 
eerie  feeling, which  I  struggled  vainly  to  throw 
off,  angry  at  my  weakness,  and  watchful  as  a 
lynx.  Gassier  also  stood  erect  staring  about 
him  into  the  dim,  distant  corners,  as  though 
dreading  the  same  apparition,  one  hand  grip 
ping  the  hilt  of  his  knife. 

Confident  of  his  watchfulness,  I  bent  down, 
unbuttoned  the  uniform  jacket,  and  ran  a 
hand  into  the  inner  pocket,  bringing  forth  a 
few  scraps  of  paper  and  a  letter.  The  latter 
was  sealed  and  addressed  simply  "  The  Duke 
de  Saule,  Rue  de  Vie,  Paris."  I  looked  at  it, 
turning  it  over  in  my  fingers,  surprised,  but 
unable  to  comprehend.  Saule!  No  man  at 
the  court  had  greater  influence  with  the  king, 
[162] 


THE  SECRET  STAIRS 


and  no  man,  I  was  convinced,  was  a  greater 
villain.  Ay  1  and  he  was  the  same  one  to  whom 
his  Majesty  wished  once  to  give  Mademoiselle 
d'Enville.  I  recalled  her  swift  words  of  scorn, 
the  gesture  with  which  she  had  dismissed  him. 
How  came  the  letter  here  in  that  jacket  pocket 
unopened?  Was  it  a  secret  message  dis 
patched  by  some  officer  who  had  been  cap 
tured  and  robbed?  If  so,  why  did  the  seal 
remain  unbroken?  Had  the  man  been  struck 
down  before  he  could  escape?  Then  how 
could  I  account  for  the  letter  being  left  in  his 
possession?  Who  was  it  from?  For  what 
purpose  had  it  been  written?  Did  it  have 
any  bearing  on  the  fate  of  the  lady? 

I  hesitated  to  tear  it  open,  for,  although 
the  outer  wrapping  was  unmarked  by  any 
stamp  of  royalty,  it  nevertheless  might  be  a 
king's  message.  In  perplexity  I  turned  to  ex 
amine  the  other  papers,  but  they  helped  me 
not  at  all  —  one  was  a  list  of  names,  with  dif 
ferent  sums  of  money  credited  to  each ;  another 
was  a  consignment  of  wine  to  a  mess  sergeant, 
while  the  third  contained  a  list  of  names  of 
[163] 


SHEA,  OF  THE  IRISH  BRIGADE 

various  officers,  some  of  whom  I  knew,  and, 
next  to  the  last,  I  read  with  astonishment  my 
own,  and  after  it  was  affixed  a  red  cross. 
Three  others  in  the  list  were  similarly  distin 
guished.  Clearly  there  was  no  help  here,  only 
a  deeper  mystery.  For  what  purpose  was  that 
list  prepared?  Why  were  those  three  names 
checked  in  red?  Who  was  the  officer  to  whom 
this  uniform  originally  belonged?  He  must 
have  known  me  and  had  some  design  upon 
me.  If  I  only  dared  to  open  the  sealed  en 
velope  its  contents  might  reveal  the  whole 
tale.  Yet  to  do  so  involved  a  danger  greater 
than  that  which  now  confronted  us.  If,  as  I 
suspected,  it  was  indeed  a  secret  message  from 
Louis  to  de  Saule,  no  meddler  could  ever  hope 
for  pardon.  My  position  was  already  too  pre 
carious  to  assume  such  desperate  risk.  The 
king's  anger  was  more  to  be  feared  than  any 
peril  from  his  enemies.  I  thrust  the  missive 
into  my  own  pocket,  and  arose  to  my  feet.  Gas 
sier  was  watching  my  movements,  his  guard 
relaxed,  and,  as  I  came  upright,  my  eyes 
glanced  beyond  him  toward  an  arch  in  the 
[164] 


THE  SECRET  STAIRS 


long  wall.  As  I  did  so  a  shadow  —  so  dim  I 
almost  doubted  its  reality  —  glided  across  the 
recess,  and  disappeared.  What  it  was  —  man, 
or  beast,  or  merely  flickering  light,  I  could  not 
tell;  yet  something  moved.  With  the  instant 
my  every  nerve  was  alert,  and  my  fingers 
gripped  Gassier. 

"  Stand  there  at  the  stair  head,"  I  whis 
pered  fiercely,  "  and  watch.  There  is  move 
ment  yonder." 

I  sprang  forward,  drawing  my  sword,  in 
tent  now  only  on  the  one  object  —  that  of 
overhauling  the  fugitive.  The  recess  revealed 
another  room,  maybe  a  third  as  large  as  the 
apartment  in  which  we  had  found  the  body. 
The  walls  retained  traces  of  decoration,  and 
broken  stone  images  strewed  the  floor.  Pos 
sibly  at  one  time  it  had  been  lined  with 
sculptured  figures,  and  was  a  scene  of  splendor, 
but  now  the  ruin  was  complete.  I  did  not 
pause  to  examine,  my  eyes  perceiving  only  a 
narrow  opening  in  the  further  wall,  where  a 
single  slab  of  stone  swung  outward.  Reach 
ing  this  I  paused,  staring  up  a  flight  of  stone 
[165] 


SHEA,  OF  THE  IRISH  BRIGADE 

stairs  ending  in  utter  darkness.  There  was 
no  sound,  no  sign  of  guidance.  Yet  if  that 
was  a  man  I  pursued  he  must  have  vanished 
here,  for  the  room  contained  no  other  exit. 
The  walls  were  of  unbroken  stone,  except  for 
one  high-grated  window.  And  the  stairs! 
where  did  they  lead?  Either  to  the  tower,  or 
the  roof  probably,  but,  if  so,  the  passage  up 
ward  must  be  obstructed,  for  it  was  impenetra 
ble  with  darkness.  I  could  only  grope  my  way, 
exposed  to  any  attack  from  an  enemy  con 
cealed  above.  And,  whoever  he  was,  he  was 
a  man  to  be  feared  —  that  fellow  with  crushed 
skull  proved  this  —  a  man  desperate  enough 
for  any  deed  of  violence.  Yet  there  was  a 
chance  he  had  no  suspicion  that  his  stealthy 
movements  had  been  perceived ;  he  might  not 
suspect  that  he  was  followed.  I  was  reckless 
enough  to  grasp  this  hope,  for  to  call  Gassier 
would  be  to  create  alarm,  and  leave  the  great 
stairway  unguarded.  I  must  chance  it  alone, 
or  else  let  the  fellow  go. 

With  every  caution  I  crept  forward,  step 
by  step,  until  almost  swallowed  by  darkness. 
[166] 


THE  SECRET  STAIRS 


The  stairs  were  narrow  and  spiral,  shut  in  by 
solid  walls  of  stone,  and  I  could  feel  small 
niches  here  and  there  in  which  candles  might 
have  once  been  set  for  guidance.  In  one  I 
touched  a  bit  of  metal  shaped  like  a  cross, 
possibly  the  hilt  of  a  broadsword.  I  had  to 
trust  my  groping  hand  for  guidance,  but  felt 
no  fear  of  other  danger  than  that  which  I 
might  encounter  in  human  form.  I  counted 
the  steps,  finding  thirty  before  my  eyes  per 
ceived  a  gleam  of  light  still  far  above  me. 
It  was  the  slightest  ray,  cutting  through  the 
dense  pall,  seemingly  no  more  than  a  reflec 
tion,  yet,  to  my  eyes,  trained  by  darkness,  re 
vealed  what  was  before  me.  From  that  point 
the  steps  led  straight  up  to  a  platform,  the 
opening  of  which  was  closed. 

The  single  bar  of  light  streamed  through  a 
slight  aperture  between  two  stones,  scarce 
wider  than  a  finger.  Yet  there  was  nothing 
to  obstruct  my  passage;  no  evidence  that 
my  presence  was  suspected,  and  I  crept  on, 
with  fresh  courage,  until  I  touched  the  ob 
struction  above.  It  was  a  thin  stone,  fitted 
[167] 


SHEA,  OF  THE  IRISH  BRIGADE 

into  grooves  cut  in  the  solid  rock,  and  I  lifted 
one  end  without  much  difficulty,  or  the  slight 
est  noise.  I  stood  crouched  on  the  second  step, 
the  slab  of  rock  tilted  just  enough  to  permit 
my  eyes  to  peer  through  the  crack,  and  sought 
to  learn  something  of  the  situation  above. 
There  was  ample  light,  yet  I  could  distinguish 
little  but  a  rounded  segment  of  wall,  which, 
however,  convinced  me  the  opening  led  into 
the  tower.  No  shadow  obscured  the  sunlight, 
and  no  sound  of  movement  reached  my  ears. 
I  waited,  listening  intently,  and  then,  con 
vinced  no  one  could  be  near,  pressed  back  the 
stone  out  of  the  way,  and  lifted  my  head 
through  the  opening. 

There  was  revealed  the  interior  of  a  round 
turret,  with  narrow  window  slits,  permitting 
a  view  outward,  and  a  wider  opening  leading 
to  the  roof,  which  was  protected  by  a  wall  of 
stone.  The  place  was  empty  but  for  a  dis 
mounted  culverin,  red  with  rust,  and,  as  I 
drew  myself  upright,  my  eyes  gazed  afar  off 
through  one  of  the  windows,  across  meadow 
and  woods  to  the  distant  horizon.  It  was  a 
[168] 


THE  SECRET  STAIRS 


magnificent  view,  yet  nowhere  revealing  evi 
dence  of  habitation.  Beautiful,  and  fertile 
as  the  country  appeared,  it  had  been  swept 
bare  by  war,  its  houses  burned,  its  fields  laid 
waste.  Here  and  there  I  could  perceive  signs 
of  what  had  been  —  gaunt  outlines  of  chim 
neys,  smokeless  and  in  ruins,  with  bare  and 
blackened  spots  where  homes  had  stood.  The 
forest  hid  the  village,  but  the  memory  of  its 
desolation  only  served  to  render  the  melan 
choly  picture  more  complete. 

Far  away,  ten  miles,  at  least,  a  considerable 
column  of  troops  moved  slowly  along  a  rib 
bon-like  road,  through  a  rising  cloud  of  dust. 
There  was  nothing  else  to  attract  the  eye,  and 
the  sun  sinking  into  the  west  already  cast  long 
shadows.  All  this  I  saw  in  a  glance,  my  real 
interest  as  quickly  consolidating  on  the  pur 
pose  which  brought  me  there.  Someone  had 
preceded  me  up  those  stairs:  I  had  been  fol 
lowing  no  vision,  no  imaginary  figure  —  there, 
in  the  dust  of  the  floor  were  footprints,  but 
they  were  those  of  a  woman,  or  a  child.  Could 
the  fugitive  be  Mademoiselle!  My  heart 
[169] 


SHEA,  OF  THE  IRISH  BRIGADE 

leaped  eagerly  at  the  thought;  for  the  instant 
I  did  not  doubt,  but  rushed  recklessly  to  the 
door. 

There  I  stopped  as  though  shot,  shrinking 
back  behind  the  cover  of  the  stone,  and  gaz 
ing  cautiously  forth  on  a  strange,  bizarre  fig 
ure,  which  at  first  glimpse  I  could  in  no  way 
associate  with  anything  human.  The  creature 
had  climbed  into  a  crevice  of  the  parapet, 
and  was  leaning  over,  gazing  down  into  the 
courtyard  below.  All  I  could  see  was  a 
humped  distorted  form,  oddly  attired  in  sheep 
skin,  a  great  bushy  mat  of  hair  crowning  the 
head,  a  long  arm,  all  out  of  proportion,  ex 
tended  along  the  stone,  and  a  hairy  hand 
gripping  the  rock.  It  might  have  been  an 
ape,  dressed  up  by  human  hands,  for  the  fig 
ure  was  dwarfed,  misshapen,  even  hideous  in 
its  deformity.  Then  the  apparition  straight 
ened  up,  and  turned  partly  around,  revealing 
the  face.  I  crouched  back  in  my  covert,  yet 
continued  to  stare,  my  nerves  steadying,  a  dim 
recollection  becoming  clearer  to  memory.  It 
was  the  face  of  a  man  of  sixty,  distorted  by 
[170] 


THE  SECRET  ST4IRS 


ugliness  and  creased  with  age,  a  big  face,  suf 
ficient  for  a  giant,  the  mouth  a  wide  gash,  the 
eyes  like  wells,  the  nose  flattened  as  if  by  a 
blow.  And  I  knew  the  loathsome  monster,  rec 
ognizing  him  in  a  flash,  although  I  had  only 
once  before,  and  that  for  a  brief  moment, 
gazed  curiously  on  his  grotesque  ugliness.  He 
was  the  dwarf  Gospele,  with  whom  de  Saule 
had  horrified  Paris. 


[171] 


CHAPTER  XIV 

THE  DWARF'S  STORY 

THERE  could  be  no  mistake  —  no  two 
such  monstrosities  lived  in  the  world.  I 

had  seen  the  imp,  gaily  enough  decked  out 
then,  in  the  very  anteroom  of  the  king  at  Ver 
sailles,  strutting  pompously  back  and  forth, 
indignant  at  the  slight  delay  in  his  reception, 
and  railing  at  the  guard  who  barred  his  pas 
sage.  'T  was  but  for  a  moment,  and  when  the 
curtains  were  drawn  aside,  this  devil's  brat, 
flinging  back  some  foul  word  of  contempt 
across  his  misshapen  shoulder,  passed  first  of 
all  into  the  presence  of  Louis.  I  recalled  ask 
ing  who  he  was,  shocked  at  the  fellow's  air 
of  impudence,  and  hideousness,  and,  with 
shrug  of  shoulder  which  told  more  than  words, 
the  whispered  reply: 

"  De  Saule's  private  messenger,  Monsieur; 
a  spawn  of  hell  picked  up  in  Spain,  they  say; 
yet  what  would  you?  Is  not  the  duke  the 
king's  first  friend?  " 

[172] 


THE  DWARFS  STORY 


And  now  the  dwarf  was  here,  hiding  to  all 
appearances;  on  some  foul  mission  for  his 
villainous  master,  no  doubt;  but  what?  What 
possible  interest  could  de  Saule  have  in  this 
ruined  castle  of  Roisel?  this  rendezvous  of  bri 
gands?  these  malcontents  striving  to  rob 
France  and  conspiring  against  her  king? 
Could  he  be  hand  in  glove  with  such  villains, 
playing  a  double  game,  selling  his  honor  for 
the  spoils  of  crime?  Parbleu!  I  would  not 
put  it  past  the  fellow  from  all  I  had  ever  heard 
of  him.  Yet  it  was  more  like  the  dwarf  would 
be  a  prisoner,  drawn  into  the  thieves'  net  by 
some  raid,  and  eager  as  I  to  find  a  safe  way 
out  of  the  place. 

Well,  there  were  means  whereby  I  could 
learn  the  truth  shortly.  I  had  naught  to  fear 
from  the  imp,  and  the  roof,  except  for  him 
alone,  was  empty.  A  word  would  unlock  his 
tongue,  and,  if  not,  my  fingers  on  his  ugly 
throat  would  win  response.  Ay!  and  I  had 
the  will  to  use  them.  Not  even  yet  had  I  for 
given  the  look  of  contempt,  the  sneer  of 
triumph,  with  which  he  had  vanished  into 
[i73] 


SHEA,  OF  THE  IRISH  BRIGADE 

Louis'  chamber,  leaving  us  to  wait  and  sulk 
behind. 

I  stepped  forward,  and  he  saw  me,  sliding 
down  from  his  perch,  and  uttering  a  snarl  like 
that  of  a  beast.  His  was  a  fine  rage,  not  un 
mixed  with  terror,  his  shifting  eyes  seeking 
some  scheme  of  escape  even  as  he  fronted  me 
in  pretense  at  defiance. 

"Ho  —  another!"  he  snapped.  "What 
have  we  then  —  a  nest  of  hornets?  "  and  I  saw 
a  short  iron  bar  gripped  in  his  hairy  hand. 
"  Ah,  ha !  a  Royal  Irlandais,  on  my  life.  Well, 
know  you  who  I  am,  sirrah?  Do  you  dare 
threaten  me?  " 

"  Yes,  I  know,"  I  said  coolly  enough, 
amused  at  his  effrontery.  "  No  one  would 
ever  forget  your  ugly  face,  and  I  have  seen 
it  before. 

"  And  where,  Monsieur?  " 

"At  Versailles,  Gospele  —  but  now  it  is 
my  time  to  question,  and  yours  to  answer. 
What  are  you  —  " 

He  darted  forward  across  the  roof,  perhaps 
seeking  some  means  of  escape  at  the  further 
[i74] 


THE  DWARF'S  STORY 


corner.  Yet  my  thought  was  that  his  purpose 
might  be  to  alarm  the  guard  below,  and  my 
hand  gripped  his  sheep-skin  robe  before  he 
had  taken  a  dozen  steps.  The  little  devil 
fought  like  a  rat,  striking  at  me  with  his  iron 
bar,  until  I  wrenched  it  from  his  hand.  He 
possessed  strength,  and  a  malignant  hate  which 
made  him  dangerous,  yet  it  was  no  trick  to 
master  him,  and  I  forced  him  to  his  knees, 
the  coward  in  him  whining  for  mercy.  I  held 
him  to  his  feet,  shaking  the  fellow  until  his 
teeth  rattled. 

"  Now  will  you  answer  me? "  I  asked, 
roughly  enough,  frowning  down  into  his  eyes. 
"  What  do  you  here,  Gospele?  on  some  mis 
sion  for  your  master?  Come,  speak,  or  I  '11 
close  on  that  throat  of  yours  like  a  tiger  cat. 
Are  you  a  prisoner?  or  in  league  with  these 
villains?" 

His  eyes,  searching  my  face,  had  in  their 
green  depths  a  look  of  cunning  as  he  hurriedly 
cried: 

"  I  am  prisoner,  Monsieur." 

"  Ah,  indeed !    Yet  you  sought  to  reach  the 


SHEA,  OF  THE  IRISH  BRIGADE 

guard  with  an  alarm  —  you  feared  them  less 
than  me?" 

"  I  was  frightened,  Monsieur;  I  knew  not 
who  you  might  be,  and  you  came  at  me 
fiercely." 

"  Pouf!  would  you  expect  me  to  be  gentle 
as  a  lamb?  You  deal  with  a  soldier,  Gospele; 
so  give  heed  to  your  answers.  Is  de  Saule 
here?  " 

"  No." 

I  know  not  why,  but  some  swift  instinct  told 
me  he  lied,  and  my  hand  twisted  in  his 
garment. 

"  Not  here!  Absurd!  I  never  heard  of  your 
being  far  apart  with  any  deviltry  afoot.  How 
came  you  in  this  nest  of  villains?  " 

He  whined  it  out,  writhing  under  the  pres 
sure  of  my  fingers,  cursing  in  strange  Spanish 
oaths,  and  making  so  much  detail,  as  to  con 
vince  me  the  tale  was  all  false.  I  listened  to 
the  end  of  his  story  of  fancy,  glaring  into 
his  face,  and  seeking  somewhere  to  detect  a 
gleam  of  truth.  Yet  I  cared  so  little  for  what 
the  fellow  said  that  I  retain  now  but  vague 
[176] 


THE  DWARF'S  STORY 


recollection  of  it.  I  knew  he  lied,  hoping  to 
escape  my  grip ;  but  his  words  only  served  to 
strengthen  my  purpose.  By  his  story  it  was 
some  message  of  de  Saule  to  the  king  which 
had  brought  him  into  these  parts,  and  made 
him  prisoner  to  this  band  of  cut-throats.  Ay! 
he  cursed  them  well,  dwelling  upon  his  suf 
ferings,  and  seeking  thus  to  awaken  my  sym 
pathy,  yet  when  he  finally  paused  for  breath, 
I  only  loathed  him  the  more  for  his  foul 
mouth. 

"  Enough  of  that,"  I  said  at  last  shortly. 
"  'T  will  serve  you  best,  Gospele,  to  answer 
me  briefly.  Who  is  the  woman  these  villains 
hold?" 

"  The  cook,  you  mean?  " 

"  No ;  not  the  cook ;  I  doubt  if  they  have  one, 
and,  mark  you!  I'll  have  the  whole  truth, 
you  imp !  The  woman  brought  here  last  night 
on  horseback  —  who  was  she?" 

"How  should  I  know,  Monsieur — I,  a 
prisoner?  " 

"  Well,  you  do  know,  and  your  lies  serve  you 
little.  Let  your  fairy  tales  go,  and  answer 
[i77l 


SHEA,  OF  THE  IRISH  BRIGADE 

me  yes  or  no  —  was  the  lady  Mademoiselle 
d'Enville?  " 

He  could  not  answer,  his  great  mouth  open 
gasping  for  breath,  his  eyes  full  of  terror. 
But  there  was  no  need;  his  very  fright  was 
evidence  my  guess  was  correct.  I  shook  him 
as  a  terrier  would  a  rat,  determined  now  to 
learn  the  whole  truth  so  far  as  he  knew  it. 
The  fellow  was  an  arrant  coward,  and  would 
never  risk  his  own  precious  skin  to  protect 
another. 

"  Ah  I  I  am  on  the  right  trail,  I  see.  Now, 
Gospele,  listen  —  that  is  a  pistol  pressing  hard 
into  your  ribs,  with  powder  and  ball  behind 
it.  One  more  lie  and  I  kill  you  like  the  dog 
you  are.  Tell  me  now,  where  is  the  lady?  " 

He  rolled  his  eyes  up  to  mine,  but  discov 
ered  there  no  expression  of  mercy. 

"  You  would  kill  me,  Monsieur?  " 

"  Ay,  with  great  pleasure;  come,  speak." 

"  But  if  I  do  not  know  —  " 

"  You  do  know;  so  have  done  with  it.  See 
here,  Gospele,  I  am  not  alone:  The  great 
staircase  below  is  under  guard.  There  is  only 
[178] 


THE  DWARF'S  STORY 


one  way  in  which  you  can  save  your  life. 
You  have  more  reason  to  fear  me  than 
de  Saule,  and  I  speak  you  now  for  the  last 
time.  Another  excuse  means  the  bullet  — 
where  is  she?  " 

He  gulped,  barely  able  to  articulate,  but 
the  words  came. 

"  They  are  there  below  —  they  are  both 
safe,  Monsieur;  I  swear  it." 

"They?"  I  stammered.  "What  do  you 
mean,  you  little  viper?  Is  she  with  de  Saule?  " 

Quick,  secretive  as  he  was,  I  detected  the 
sly  menace  of  his  eyes;  the  sudden  hope  he 
felt  that  even  then  a  lie  might  possibly  save 
him.  I  did  not  know  then  as  much  as  he  had 
supposed. 

"I  —  I  did  not  mean  that,  Monsieur,"  he 
began,  desperately.  "  You  frighten  me  so  I 
know  not  what  I  say.  'T  is  the  lady  alone  —  " 

"All  right!  If  you  will  not  answer  me  I 
have  no  more  use  for  you.  Now  I  am  going 
to  kill  you,  Gospele  —  " 

" Mon  Dieu,  no!  I  will  tell  you!"  he 
shrieked.  "  What  care  I  if  you  know?  " 


SHEA,  OF  THE  IRISH  BRIGADE 

"  Then  say  quick  —  is  the  other  de  Saule?  " 

"  No,  Monsieur." 

"Who  then?" 

"  The  lady's  brother,  Chevalier  d'Enville." 

For  an  instant  I  was  fairly  stricken  dumb, 
staring  down  into  the  ugly  upturned  face.  I 
could  not  believe,  yet  what  purpose  could  it 
serve  for  him  to  say  that. 

"  You  lie  again,  you  dog  —  the  man  is 
dead." 

"  Dead!  "  he  echoed,  his  face  fairly  ghastly 
as  he  interpreted  the  expression  of  my  eyes. 
"  No,  no,  Monsieur,  he  is  not.  I  saw  him 
within  the  hour.  I  —  I  gave  him  food."  His 
voice  broke,  as  he  realized  the  mistake  of  such 
a  confession.  "  They  made  me  do  it,  and  we 
conversed.  He  is  not  dead,  Monsieur." 

I  was  not  even  half  convinced,  but  by  now 
had  control  of  myself,  and  felt  it  better  to 
humor  the  fellow. 

"  Then  it  was  his  uniform  on  that  dead  ruf 
fian  below.  How  came  that  villain  killed?" 

He  looked  at  me,  his  eyes  void  of  expres 
sion. 

[180] 


THE  DWARF'S  STORY 


"  Where  was  that?    I  saw  nothing." 

"  In  the  big  hall  at  the  head  of  the  stairs, 
lying  before  the  dais.  You  were  there,  for 
I  saw  your  shadow  and  followed.  Do  you 
mean  to  say  you  did  not  see  us?  " 

"  I  saw  two  men,  Monsieur,  but  they  were 
both  alive,  and  on  their  feet.  I  could  not  tell 
in  the  light  who  they  were,  but  I  did  not  wish 
anyone  to  see  me,  so  I  slipped  away,  and  came 
up  here.  There  was  no  dead  man  to  be  seen 
anywhere." 

"  Well  there  was  one,  a  black-bearded,  dir 
ty-faced  fellow,  togged  out  in  the  uniform  of 
an  officer  of  the  Regiment  du  Roi.  He  had 
been  struck  from  behind,  and  his  skull 
crushed.  'T  was  such  a  blow  as  you  could  give 
with  that  bar  in  your  hand.  And  you  know 
naught  of  it?  " 

He  shook  his  head  doggedly. 

"  Nor  who  he  might  be?  " 

"  Black-bearded,  and  dirty-faced  you  say. 

Small  doubt  the  fellow  was  the  jailer,  Deslins. 

Sacre!  I  am  not  sorry,  but  how  he  came  there, 

or  why  he  wore  the  chevalier's  uniform,  I 

[1*1] 


SHEA,  OF  THE  IRISH  BRIGADE 

cannot  tell.  'Twas  not  this  bar,  Monsieur, 
that  crushed  his  thick  skull." 

"  Then  there  will  be  others  abroad.  You 
say  the  chevalier,  and  his  sister  are  together?  " 

He  hesitated,  but  I  choked  the  answer  out 
of  his  throat. 

"Not  together  —  no.  Let  go!  I  cannot 
speak.  I  will  tell  the  truth.  They  do  not  even 
know." 

"And  you  did  not  tell  them?" 

"  How  could  I,  Monsieur?  I  was  with 
Deslins,  who  made  me  bear  the  food.  Had  I 
told,  the  villain  would  have  killed  me.  It 
was  his  threat  when  he  bade  me  go  along." 

I  stared  down  into  the  dwarf's  face  unde 
cided,  yet  fully  convinced  that  he  lied  in 
every  way  he  dared  the  venture.  He  told  me 
merely  what  he  must  tell  in  order  to  save  his 
own  miserable  neck,  but  was  concealing  the 
real  truth.  There  must  be  a  purpose.  It  was 
my  judgment  the  imp  was  no  prisoner.  He 
was  alone,  unguarded,  apparently  perfectly 
free  to  go  and  come  as  he  pleased.  Even  by 
his  own  confession  he  had  been  on  friendly 
[182] 


THE  DWARF'S  STORY 


terms  with  the  jailer  Deslins.  Whether  he 
had  killed  the  man  or  not  —  and  on  that  sub 
ject  I  was  by  no  means  satisfied  —  he  was  thor 
oughly  acquainted  with  the  castle,  had  ex 
plored  its  secret  passages,  and  knew  where  the 
prisoners  were  confined.  'Twas  little  likely 
this  happened  by  chance. 

The  little  devil  was  a  villain  at  heart,  easily 
recognized  by  his  kind,  and  no  doubt  willing 
enough  to  promise  anything  to  save  himself. 
That  might  be  the  way  of  it.-  He  had  been 
captured,  as  he  said,  while  on  some  venture 
for  his  master,  but  had  seen  here  good  sport, 
with  a  chance  for  spoil,  and,  unhampered  by 
any  conscience,  had  easily  become  one  of  the 
gang.  Then  another  suspicion  came  to  me  — 
was  it  not  possible  the  servant  was  there  on  his 
master's  business?  It  was  by  no  means  im 
possible  that  de  Saule  had  connection  secretly 
with  this  band  of  marauders.  He  was  of 
reckless  character,  of  no  known  family,  a  mere 
adventurer  whose  source  of  income  was  but 
a  matter  of  guess.  Paris  rang  with  stories  of 
his  profligacy,  his  wild  excesses,  his  continual 
[183] 


SHEA,  OF  THE  IRISH  BRIGADE 

duels.  It  was  only  the  friendship  of  the  king 
which  gave  him  place  at  court  —  ay,  and  title 
—  and  this,  so  it  was  freely  whispered  about, 
came  only  through  his  willingness  to  pander 
to  the  vices  of  his  royal  master,  and  to  dis 
cover  for  him  new  pleasures.  To  such  a  man 
there  would  be  nothing  abhorrent  in  crime, 
and  his  loyalty  to  Louis  would  never  restrain 
him.  Besides,  it  could  be  no  mere  coincidence 
that  the  chevalier  and  his  sister  would  both 
be  held  prisoners  here,  unknown  to  each  other, 
and  kept  separated.  There  was  some  purpose 
in  it;  and  who,  besides  de  Saule,  could  have 
any  object  in  such  an  act? 

It  was  not  clear  to  me  what  purpose  could 
have  actuated  even  de  Saule  in  such  a  deed, 
but  I  did  know  that  the  man  had  persist 
ently  sought  marriage  with  Mademoiselle, 
exerting  all  his  influence  with  the  king  to  win 
her  consent.  But  not  even  the  authority  of 
Louis  had  been  sufficient  to  win  it  from  the 
lady.  There  were  strange  tales  about  of  how 
she  had  taunted  the  fellow,  of  how  she  had 
even  refused  to  recognize  him  in  the  very 
[184] 


THE  DWARF'S  STORY 


presence  of  the  king,  of  how  Louis,  in  anger, 
had  banished  her  from  court  in  disgrace,  and 
she  had  only  laughed  at  his  threats,  and  gone 
away  gaily  enough.  And  there  were  rumors 
that  de  Saule  had  followed  her,  only  to  be  re 
fused  audience,  and  permitted  to  cool  his  heels 
at  an  inn,  in  spite  of  his  bearing  a  king's  letter 
of  command;  ay!  and  it  was  whispered  about 
that  the  chevalier,  hearing  all  this  in  camp 
gossip,  had  journeyed  hastily  to  Paris,  and 
slapped  de  Saule's  face  with  his  glove,  but  the 
cur  refused  to  fight,  pleading  in  excuse  for 
such  cowardice  his  love  for  the  lady  and  fear 
of  harming  her  brother. 

These  were  the  indistinct  recollections 
which  flashed  instantly  through  my  mind. 
Whether  the  stories  were  true,  or  false,  I  knew 
not — I  had  paid  small  attention  to  them. 
But  if  true  then  here  surely  was  a  sufficient 
motive  for  de  Saule  to  resort  to  force  after  all 
other  effort  had  failed.  The  man  was  reckless, 
and  desperate  enough  to  take  the  chance,  and 
whether  the  fellow  was  in  love  with  Made 
moiselle,  or  the  broad  acres  of  her  inheritance, 
[185] 


SHEA,  OF  THE  IRISH  BRIGADE 

the  game  was  well  worth  the  candle.  And  at 
that  he  did  not  risk  so  much,  for,  with  the 
king  aiding  him,  he  had  little  to  fear  in  way 
of  punishment,  and  Louis  dearly  loved 
intrigue. 

After  all,  it  might  be  the  king's  own  sug 
gestion,  easily  enough  carried  out  with  his 
abetting.  Of  course  I  had  no  belief  the  chev 
alier  was  there.  That  was  a  lie,  thought 
lessly  uttered  by  Gospele,  who  knew  nothing 
of  what  had  occurred  two  nights  before  in  the 
French  camp.  Why  he  had  told  it  I  could  not 
conjecture,  yet  my  memory  of  our  fight  was 
far  too  vivid  for  me  to  believe  now  that  I  had 
not  run  the  man  through,  and  left  him  dying 
when  I  fled.  Much  as  I  regretted  the  hasty 
quarrel,  and  its  fatal  result,  I  could  not  ques 
tion  its  reality.  D'Enville  was  dead,  and  it  was 
my  sword  that  had  killed  him;  it  was  this  act 
which  had  made  of  me  a  fugitive,  which  had 
brought  me  here.  So  I  knew  Gospele  lied  — 
if  there  was  another  prisoner  besides  Made 
moiselle  confined  in  the  castle  it  was  not  her 
brother.  Who  he  was  I  meant  to  know. 
[186] 


THE  DWARF'S  STORY 


My  eyes  were  on  the  dwarf,  my  grip  hold 
ing  him  helpless. 

"  Come,"  I  said  sternly.  "  We  have  talked 
long  enough.  Now  lead  on." 

"Where,  Monsieur?" 

"  To  where  you  say  the  chevalier  is  con 
fined  ;  and  do  n't  venture  to  play  any  tricks 


on  me." 


THE  EMPTY  CELL 

EVEN  with  a  pistol  grasped  in  my  free 
hand  I  dared  not  release  my  grip  of  my 
guide's  collar.  That  he  was  treacherous,  fur 
tively  seeking  every  opportunity  to  break 
away,  I  well  knew.  Whether  in  league  with 
these  devils,  or  only  anxious  to  escape  from 
them  as  well  as  myself,  I  could  not  determine, 
but  that  he  had  lied  to  me  was  certain,  and 
hence  I  suspected  the  worst.  My  only  safety  lay 
in  keeping  the  imp  under  complete  control. 

He  shuffled  forward,  unwillingly  enough, 
sputtering  angrily,  and  squirming  under  the 
pressure  of  my  ringers,  until  we  reached  the 
top  of  the  spiral  staircase.  With  little  of 
gentleness  I  thrust  him  through  the  narrow 
opening,  following  down  so  closely  that  any 
hope  he  might  have  entertained  of  escape  van 
ished.  By  this  time  he  had  become  silent  and 
sullen,  his  eyes  alone  revealing  hatred.  I  had 
no  fear  of  him,  but  watched  him  as  a  cat 
[188] 


THE  EMPTY  CELL 


would  a  mouse.  We  came  to  the  foot  of  the 
stairs,  emerging  into  the  light  of  the  first 
apartment.  It  appeared  just  as  when  I  had 
passed  through  there  before,  grim  and  silent 
in  its  desolation,  and  I  hustled  my  prisoner 
forward,  under  the  connecting  arch  out  into 
the  great  hall.  The  sun  had  sank  further  into 
the  west,  and  the  shadows  were  dense,  leaving 
much  of  the  vast  apartment  obscured.  I 
picked  a  passage  through  the  debris,  until  we 
came  to  the  dead  body,  now  lying  face  up 
ward,  just  as  I  had  left  it.  Gospele  shrank 
back  from  contemplating  the  dread  object, 
but  I  compelled  him  to  look,  determined  to 
be  satisfied  as  to  the  man's  identity. 

"  Well,"  I  asked,  "  is  he  Deslins?  " 

"  Yes,  Monsieur,"  the  two  words  choking 
in  his  throat. 

"  And  the  clothes  —  they  belonged  to  the 
prisoner?  " 

"I  —  I  think  they  must  —  but  I  cannot  tell 
that.  Do  not  hold  me  here,  Monsieur.  I  can 
not  bear  to  look.  The  man  who  was  with  you 
—  where  is  he?  " 

[  189  ] 


SHEA,  OF  THE  IRISH  BRIGADE 

The  question  was  in  my  own  mind,  for 
if  Gassier  was  still  at  the  head  of  the  great 
staircase,  where  I  had  left  him  on  watch,  he 
would  certainly  have  perceived  us  before 
now,  and  endeavored  to  learn  who  we  were. 
The  light  was  not  sufficient  for  me  to  see 
clearly,  yet  there  was  no  movement  to  indi 
cate  his  presence.  The  gloom  and  silence 
combined  made  me  suspicious  of  some  new 
disaster,  as  I  stared  about,  secretly  dreading 
to  discover  the  truth. 

"  He  should  not  be  far  away,"  I  answered, 
assuming  a  confidence  I  was  far  from  feeling. 
"  Perhaps  he  has  gone  down  the  corridor. 
Come  along:  we  shall  soon  see." 

But  the  man  was  not  there,  nor  was  there 
any  sign  of  him  upon  the  stairs  or  along  the 
bare,  desolate  hall.  I  did  not  dare  call  his 
name,  not  knowing  who  might  be  lurking  in 
the  shadows  within  sound  of  my  voice,  but  I 
searched  the  near-by  rooms,  pistol  in  hand, 
dragging  the  protesting  Gospele  continually 
after  me,  afraid  to  release  my  hold  on  the  fel 
low,  to  no  result.  What  could  have  become 
[190] 


THE  EMPTY  CELL 


of  the  soldier  I  could  not  conjecture.  He  was 
certainly  not  the  kind  to  run  away,  and  desert 
a  comrade  in  danger,  but  I  could  discover  no 
evidences  of  any  struggle.  Possibly  he  had 
become  tired  of  waiting  for  my  return,  per 
haps  had  grown  suspicious  that  I  had  met  with 
disaster,  and  gone  exploring  on  his  own 
account. 

"  Who  was  he,  Monsieur? "  asked  the 
dwarf,  as  I  stared  helplessly  about.  "  One  of 
your  own  men?  " 

"  No,  an  officer  of  the  Regiment  of  Tou- 


raine." 


His  little  pig  eyes  widened. 

"Ah!  the  Captain  Gassier  1  You  found 
him  in  a  cell  below?  " 

"  Yes;  so  you  knew  he  was  there  did  you? 
It  seems  to  me  there  was  not  much  going  on 
about  this  castle  that  you  did  not  know." 

"The  jailer  made  me — " 

"  Never  mind  that  Gospele,"  I  interrupted 

almost  savagely,  tired  of  his  lying.     "  You 

never  brought  food  to  the  man  below,  nor  did 

Deslins.    He  told  me  the  only  fellow  he  saw 

[191] 


SHEA,  OF  THE  IRISH  BRIGADE 

was  a  negro.  If  you  knew  he  was  captive 
there  you  found  it  out  in  some  other  way  than 
through  being  obliged  to  serve  him.  Look 
here!  "  and  I  shook  him  angrily.  "  You  have 
lied  to  me  from  the  very  first  word,  and  I 
know  it.  It  is  not  a  safe  game  to  try  to  play 
with  me,  for  I  care  no  more  for  saving  your 
life  than  I  would  for  that  of  a  venomous 
snake.  Now  answer  what  I  ask  you,  and  if  I 
catch  you  in  another  lie  you  '11  rue  it,  my 
friend.  I  promise  you  that,  and  I  happen  to 
know  more  about  this  affair  than  you  suppose. 
You  are  not  a  prisoner  and  your  falsehoods 
only  make  it  worse  for  you." 

He  looked  into  my  face,  wetting  his  dry 
lips  with  his  tongue,  unable  at  once  to  frame 
an  answer,  puzzled  as  to  how  much  I  actually 
knew,  or  how  far  he  might  still  venture.  Cow 
ardice  was  in  his  eyes,  and  I  gave  him  no  time 
to  decide. 

"So  you  are  not!  What  then  —  on  some 
dirty  work  here  for  your  master?  Is  de  Saule 
here?" 

He  shook  his  head,  afraid  to  reply. 
[  192] 


THE  EMPTY  CELL 


"  Speak,  you  dog.    Where  is  he?  " 

"  In  Paris,  Monsieur;  but  't  is  true  he  sent 


me." 


"Ah!  so  you  confess  that!  So  much  the 
better  for  you,  for  I  was  losing  patience.  He 
has  connection  with  these  brigands  then,  and 
makes  use  of  them  to  carry  out  his  schemes  of 
deviltry?  Well  come,  you  know  why  you 
were  sent,  so  make  a  full  breast  of  it.  Was  it 
the  plan  to  kidnap  Mademoiselle  d'Enville?  " 

He  squirmed  under  my  hand,  but  it  was 
useless,  and  he  read  no  weakness  or  mercy  in 
my  eyes. 

"  Why  you  think  that,  Monsieur?  " 

"  No  matter  why  I  think  it;  I  have  reason 
enough.  The  rumors  of  the  court  are  not  un 
known  in  the  French  camps.  So  speak  up  for 
you  have  more  reason  just  now  to  fear  me  than 
de  Saule." 

"  'T  is  not  that  I  fear  him,  Monsieur." 

"Who  then?" 

"The  king." 

"  Ah !  "  I  exclaimed.  "  Now  we  get  down 
to  facts.  Parbleu!  I  thought  as  much.  It  is 
[i93] 


SHEA,  OF  THE  IRISH  BRIGADE 

a  conspiracy  then.  Louis  would  have  his  way 
with  the  maid  in  spite  of  her  refusal  to  obey. 
I  begin  to  understand  some  things  that  looked 
dark  before.  'T  was  arranged,  no  doubt,  that 
she  should  leave  Paris  with  dispatches  for  the 
army,  and  be  taken  en  route,  and  brought  here. 
Sacre!  'Twas  a  good  plan,  for  the  lady  was 
of  a  spirit  thus  readily  to  sacrifice  herself. 
And  then,  I  suppose,  when  things  looked  the 
darkest,  de  Saule  was  gallantly  to  appear  as 
the  rescuer,  offering  to  save  Mademoiselle 
from  these  banditti  for  the  small  reward  of 
the  lady's  hand.  A  sweet  scheme,  surely, 
worthy  of  a  royal  brain.  Odd  luck  it  did  not 
miscarry,  and  but  for  me  it  would.  For  by 
chance  she  fell  into  English  hands  first,  instead 
of  these  villains  who  were  seeking  her,  and  it 
was  only  through  my  attempt  to  win  her  es 
cape  that  she  was  ever  made  prisoner  here. 
The  devil  helps  his  own.  And  so,  Gospele, 
it  was  your  duty  to  keep  watch  over  the  lady, 
and  inform  your  sweet  master  when  she  was 
in  proper  mood,  hey?  Well,  how  found  you 
Mademoiselle  this  morning?  Not  yet  pining 
[  194] 


THE  EMPTY  CELL 


for  the  duke  I  venture  a  guess ;  yet  surely  she 
knew  you,  and  had  some  word  to  say.  What 
was  it?  " 

"  Only  to  ask  how  I  chanced  to  be  there," 
with  a  grimace.  "  It  is  few  gracious  words 
she  has  ever  given  me." 

"  'T  is  scarce  likely  she  would  be  more  in 
dulgent  to  you  than  your  master.  She  has 
the  wit  to  know  you  for  two  of  a  kind.  And 
she  was  not  even  glad  to  look  on  your  ugly 
face  in  her  present  predicament.  She  asked 
nothing?  " 

"  Only  that  I  get  out  of  her  light.  Sacre! 
she  is  a  high-strung  damsel,  and  was  in  no 
mood  then  for  converse.  I  had  my  tale  well 
thought  out,  or  she  would  have  tripped  me 
with  her  sharp  tongue.  I  was  not  sorry  to 
get  out  again  when  the  chance  came.  I  never 
could  abide  dealing  with  a  woman." 

"  Likely  not:  they  are  apt  to  be  too  keen 
witted  for  such  brains  as  yours,  and  with  an 
instinct  to  tell  them  what  you  are.  In  spite 
of  your  glib  tongue  I  'd  lay  a  wager  Made 
moiselle  read  the  lie  in  your  face.  But  we 
[i95] 


SHEA,  OF  THE  IRISH  BRIGADE 

have  talked  enough.  Whatever  has  become  of 
Gassier  there  is  plenty  fronting  me  while  day 
lasts.  Where  is  it  you  say  the  chevalier  is 
confined?  " 

He  pointed  forward,  down  the  gloomy  pas 
sage,  but  never  once  took  his  eyes  from  my 
face. 

"  Yonder,  Monsieur,  next  to  the  end,"  he 
said  with  all  politeness. 

"And  the  lady?" 

There  was  just  an  instant  of  hesitation, 
scarcely  perceptible  had  I  been  less  watchful 
and  suspicious,  but  the  tightening  of  my  fin 
gers  compelled  an  answer. 

"  In  the  tower  room  above,  Monsieur:  the 
stairs  are  at  the  end  of  the  corridor." 

"  There  is  no  guard?  " 

"Only  below  in  the  court.  What  need? 
No  one  comes  here,"  and  he  crossed  himself 
piously.  "  'T  is  haunted  by  the  dead  this 
castle;  at  night  they  walk  here,  and  show 
ghastly  lights.  No  peasant  of  St.  Quentin 
would  ever  venture  to  put  foot  within  these 

walls.     So  what  is  there  to  fear?    Soldiers! 
[196] 


THE  EMPTY  CELL 


Bah!  Why  should  they  search  ruins,  where 
there  is  no  spoil?  There  are  no  roads  leading 
here,  save  that  half  concealed  path  across  the 
marsh.  A  sentinel  on  the  rock  above  guards 
that,  so  no  one  can  approach  here  unseen." 

"  Yet  I  did." 

"  Ay!  and  I  wonder  at  it.  You  crossed  the 
marsh?  At  what  hour?  " 

"  The  edge  of  dawn.    I  saw  no  one." 

"  'T  was  rare  good  luck.  The  watcher 
must  have  slept,  or  it  was  the  time  of  relief. 
You  will  not  be  so  fortunate  again,  Monsieur." 
An  ugly  sneer  curled  his  lips,  his  eyes  no 
longer  making  any  attempt  to  conceal  his  ha 
tred.  "  What  care  I  what  you  discover  here, 
or  what  you  make  me  tell  you  by  threats! 
'T  will  serve  you  little  in  the  end,  for  you  will 
never  go  away  alive.  Bah!  you  are  as  much 
of  a  prisoner  now  as  if  you  were  locked  in  a 
cell  and  loaded  with  chains.  There  is  no  es 
cape  possible.  You  think  I  tell  you  what  I 
have  because  I  fear  you?  Parbleut  I  tell  it 
because  it  can  do  no  harm  for  you  to  know. 
Were  it  not  so  you  could  skin  me  alive,  and  I 
[197] 


SHEA,  OF  THE  IRISH  BRIGADE 

would  not  speak.  Find  the  chevalier  and  the 
lady — St.  Christopher!  I  will  take  you  to 
them  gladly  enough.  But  what  good  will  it 
do?  You  cannot  get  away.  I  hate  you,  Mon 
sieur,  but  I  laugh,  for  I  am  going  to  see  you 
when  you  are  dead ;  ay!  and  am  going  to  mark 
you  for  every  word  of  insult  you  have  given 
me.  I  know  how  to  pay  my  debts." 

I  could  have  killed  the  fellow  —  it  was  in 
my  heart  to  do  so,  and  my  hand  was  at  his 
throat.  Yet  his  words,  vibrant  with  sudden 
anger,  and  ringing  true,  brought  to  me  a  chill 
which  stayed  my  fingers.  In  a  flash  I  real 
ized  the  desperation  of  the  situation,  the  peril 
surrounding  me,  the  small  chance  of  my  be 
ing  able  to  serve  Mademoiselle.  There  was 
no  need  of  a  guard  in  such  a  place.  What  I 
had  supposed  was  carelessness,  and  lack  of 
discipline,  on  the  part  of  these  banditti,  was 
only  supreme  confidence  in  the  security  of 
their  retreat,  so  protected  by  nature,  and  su 
perstition,  as  to  be  unapproachable  by  any 
enemy.  Some  strange  freak  of  fortune  had 
won  me  entrance  unobserved,  but  escape, 
[198] 


THE  EMPTY  CELL 


either  alone,  or  with  the  lady,  would  seem 
ingly  be  impossible.  Yet  desperate  as  I  now 
knew  the  situation  to  be  I  was  of  no  disposi 
tion  to  despair,  nor  permit  this  crooked  devil 
to  gloat  over  me.  I  would  fight  it  out  to  the 
end  trusting  the  saints  to  guide  me,  and  keep 
ing  a  clear  head  and  ready  hand.  So  it  was 
that  I  stared  back  into  the  fellow's  face  until 
the  smirk  of  triumph  died  on  his  lips. 

"  You  do  well  to  have  your  laugh  first,"  I 
said  coldly,  "  for  when  I  am  dead  there  will 
not  be  much  life  left  in  you.  I  have  been  in 
toils  before  this,  my  dear  Gospele,  and  always 
found  a  way  out;  so  save  your  breath.  I  '11 
prove  your  story  first,  and  then  make  my  own 
plans.  So  lead  on  friend,  and  be  still  about 


it." 


"  I^ead  on  where,  Monsieur?  "  his  face  so 
ber  enough  now,  "  to  the  lady?  " 

"  No;  I  told  you  before  —  to  the  chevalier. 
I  believe  you  lied  as  to  his  being  here  at  all. 
I  would  assure  myself  as  to  that  before  seek 
ing  Mademoiselle.  Come  show  the  way,  and 
attempt  to  play  no  trick  about  it." 
[  199] 


SHEA,  OF  THE  IRISH  BRIGADE 

He  led  me  straight  enough,  and  watching 
him  the  thought  became  convincing  that  all 
he  had  just  said  was  true.  The  fellow  now 
really  cared  but  little  what  discoveries  I 
made,  confident  that  my  escape  was  impos 
sible,  and  that  any  knowledge  I  might  thus 
acquire  of  his  master's  foul  scheme  would 
die  with  me.  But  this  only  served  to  render 
me  more  determined  to  persevere.  I  was  left 
alone,  unaided;  Gassier  had  strangely  disap 
peared,  and  whether  he  had  fled  in  sudden 
terror,  striving  to  escape  from  those  gloomy 
corridors,  ghostly  in  their  shadows,  or  had 
been  foully  dealt  with,  I  could  only  conjec 
ture.  All  I  really  knew  was  that  he  had  dis 
appeared,  leaving  me  to  fight  the  battle.  Very 
well,  I  would  fight  to  the  very  end,  and 
while  a  drop  of  blood  was  left  in  my  body. 
I  'd  pit  strength  and  wit  against  these  villains, 
in  an  effort  to  save  Mademoiselle,  and  if  I 
did  go  down,  I  would  go  down  fighting  like 
a  man  and  a  soldier.  I  would  neither  ask 
mercy,  nor  yield  it  —  and  as  to  this  little 
dwarfed  devil,  I  would  soon  be  rid  of  him! 
[  200  ] 


THE  EMPTY  CELL 


and  my  hand  tightened  its  grip  as  the  thought 
came.  Ay!  I  would  be  free  of  him,  and  take 
my  own  chances.  Courage  and  wit  might 
solve  this  riddle,  and  they  were  the  cards  I 
could  ever  play  best.  But  first  I  must  be  rid 
of  this  spying  Gospele. 

We  came  to  an  oaken  door,  the  wood  of 
which  looked  freshly  cut,  and  tightly  enough 
fitted  between  the  stones  of  the  wall.  The 
dwarf  made  an  odd  noise  at  discovery  that  it 
stood  ajar,  but  I  pressed  him  roughly  through 
the  opening  and  took  hasty  survey  of  the  in 
terior.  It  was  unoccupied,  although  there 
was  every  evidence  that  it  had  lately  held 
someone,  for  there  was  food  in  a  stone  dish 
on  the  floor,  and  a  panikin  of  water  stood  on 
a  rude  bench  beneath  the  single  window. 
The  latter  was  high  up  the  wall,  a  deep,  nar 
row  embrasure,  safe-guarded  by  iron  bars, 
through  which  vines  thrust  a  shadow  of  green 
leaves.  There  was  little  light,  yet  enough  to 
reveal  an  overturned  stool,  the  heavy  bar 
which  had  secured  the  door  on  the  floor  in 
one  corner,  and  beside  it  a  dirty,  well-worn 
[201] 


SHEA,  OF  THE  IRISH  BRIGADE 

cap.  I  stared  at  these  things,  and  then  at  Gos- 
pele,  who  shrank  back  before  the  anger  in 
my  eyes. 

"  As  I  thought  he  is  not  here." 

"But  he  was  here,  Monsieur:  I  swear  it. 
Deslins  has  been  in  here  since  I  came  with 
him;  that  is  his  cap  lying  yonder." 


[202] 


CHAPTER  XVI 

WITH  MADEMOISELLE 

I  KICKED  it  with  my  foot. 
"Ay!  it  is  plain  enough  there  was  a 
prisoner  here,"  I  said.  "  I  am  not  questioning 
that,  but  I  want  to  learn  who  the  man  might 
be.  I  am  only  sure  he  was  not  Charles  d'En- 
ville,  in  spite  of  your  assertion.  Do  you  know 
the  chevalier?  " 

"  I  have  seen  him  often." 

"  And  still  swear  it  was  no  other?  What  if 
I  tell  you  I  know  d'Enville  to  be  dead?  " 

"  He  may  be  now,  Monsieur,  but  he 
was  not  two  hours  ago,  when  I  spoke 
with  him." 

The  fellow  said  this  with  such  earnestness 
as  to  almost  convince  me.  I  hoped  it  was 
true,  and  yet  was  unable  to  conceive  its  pos 
sibility.  Could  it  be  possible  that  some  other 
officer  of  equal  rank  might  have  fallen  into 
the  hands  of  these  men,  bearing  sufficient 
resemblance  to  the  one  they  sought  to  deceive 
[203] 


SHEA,  OF  THE  IRISH  BRIGADE 

even  Gospele  who  had  seen  him  before?  The 
dwarf  had,  in  all  probability,  but  merely 
viewed  him  at  a  distance,  and  thus  gained 
only  a  vague  impression  of  the  real  appear 
ance  of  the  man.  Wishing  to  believe  him 
d'Enville  even  a  slight  resemblance  might 
have  proven  sufficient  to  convince,  and  it 
was  not  at  all  likely  that  any  of  the  others 
in  this  crew  of  outlaws  would  know  the  dif 
ference.  If  Gospele  named  him  as  the  che 
valier,  no  one  among  them  would  question 
the  identification.  But,  whoever  he  was, 
what  had  become  of  the  man?  Had  he  es 
caped?  or  been  foully  murdered?  That  was 
Deslins'  cap  on  the  floor,  and  Deslins  him 
self  was  lying  dead  in  the  big  hall  without 
clothed  in  the  prisoner's  uniform.  The  jailer 
had  been  killed  by  a  blow  struck  from  behind, 
but  if  the  officer  had  dealt  this  in  a  desperate 
effort  at  escape,  how  did  the  dead  man  become 
possessed  of  the  uniform  he  wore?  Where 
was  the  prisoner  hiding?  and  what  had  hap 
pened  to  Gassier?  These  unanswerable  ques 
tions  poured  in  upon  me,  the  situation 
[204] 


WITH  MADEMOISELLE 


becoming  more  complicated  the  longer  I 
thought. 

There  was  no  solving  the  mystery  standing 
there.  I  must  leave  it  to  unravel  itself,  find 
Mademoiselle,  and  do  the  best  I  could  to  save 
her.  That  was  my  duty  now.  Ay!  and  the 
work  must  be  done  quickly,  for  already  it  was 
growing  dusk  in  the  corridors,  and  a  glance 
at  the  high  window  told  me  the  sun  was  low 
in  the  west.  I  would  trust  Gospele  no  longer, 
be  no  longer  bothered  by  guarding  the  fellow. 
He  had  told  me  where  the  girl  was,  and  I 
could  find  her  alone.  If  he  had  lied  I  would 
come  back,  and  wring  the  truth  out  of  him. 
Now  I  would  be  better  off  rid  of  his  company, 
and  free  to  act  without  keeping  grip  on  his 
collar.  I  flung  him  from  me  onto  the  floor, 
and  picked  up  the  oak  bar. 

"  You  will  wait  here,  Master  Gospele,"  I 
said  sternly,  "  until  I  have  some  further  need 
of  you.  'T  is  not  likely  you  will  starve,  or 
suffer  greatly,  before  some  of  your  friends 
come,  even  if  I  should  not  return.  But  if  you 
have  lied  to  me,  I  shall  have  a  debt  to 
[205] 


SHEA,  OF  THE  IRISH  BRIGADE 


pay,   and  you  will  see  me  soon  enough,   I 


warrant." 


He  grovelled  on  the  floor,  making  no  at 
tempt  to  rise,  but  his  eyes  stealthily  watching 
my  movements. 

"  You  leave  me  locked  in  here,  Monsieur, 
while  you  seek  the  lady?  " 

"  Yes ;  you  have  told  me  where  she  is  con 
fined,  and  if  I  find  her  there  all  right,  you 
have  won  your  life;  but  if  not  —  "  I  stopped 
significantly. 

"  She  was  there  two  hours  ago,"  he  broke 
in  swiftly.  "  But  I  cannot  tell  now.  So  was 
the  chevalier  here,  Monsieur,  but  now  he  is 
gone.  I  can  only  tell  you  what  I  know,  what 
I  believe.  It  may  be  he  has  found,  and  re 
leased  his  sister." 

"  That  is  something  I  shall  soon  discover. 
You  said  the  tower  up  the  stairs  at  the  end 
of  this  corridor?  Is  that  the  place?  " 

He  was  too  much  frightened,  reading  the 
fierce  threat  in  my  face  to  answer,  but  there 
was  a  look  in  his  eyes  which  somehow  con 
vinced  me  that  what  he  had  said  already  was 
[206] 


WITH  MADEMOISELLE 


true.  I  stepped  backward,  clinging  to  the 
heavy  bar,  and  closed  the  door,  behind  me. 
The  wood  fitted  tightly  into  the  rude  iron 
sockets,  and  I  paused  an  instant  in  the  gloom 
of  the  corridor  listening.  There  was  no  sound 
either  from  within  or  without.  The  vast  pile 
seemed  as  deserted,  and  desolate,  as  it  had  been 
through  the  centuries.  If  aught  ever  moved 
in  these  silent  halls  it  must  be  the  ghosts  of 
the  dead,  stirred  by  memories  of  the  past.  I 
could  almost  imagine  they  were  there,  all 
about  me,  lurking  in  the  shadows.  Yet  I 
knew  better;  knew  that  what  I  really  had  to 
fear  were  heartless  and  cruel  men,  whose  very 
whereabouts  I  could  not  guess,  but  whom  I 
must  avoid  by  all  the  wit  and  skill  I  possessed. 
I  was  struggling  in  the  midst  of  cross  cur 
rents  of  human  passion,  striving  to  find  my 
way  blindly  through  them  in  the  dark.  The 
end  was  with  God,  and  I  could  only  do  my 
best,  and  trust  in  Him. 

Discovery  now  meant  death  to  me,   and 
worse  than  death  to  Camille  d'Enville.    And 
time  was  flying;  perhaps  even  now  the  guard 
[207] 


SHEA,  OF  THE  IRISH  BRIGADE 

below,  careless  as  they  apparently  were,  were 
beginning  to  wonder  at  the  delay  of  Deslins' 
return.  'Twas  not  likely  any  of  the  fellows 
cared  to  explore  these  black  corridors  at 
night,  and,  if  they  sent  a  searching  party,  it 
would  be  while  some  shred  of  daylight  lin 
gered  in  the  west.  A  half  hour  later  and  the 
cowards  would  scarcely  dare  enter  the  haunted 
halls  for  any  purpose.  Then  we  might  be 
safe  enough,  but  I  could  not  wait  for  that  — 
I  must  find  the  lady,  and  learn  her  condition, 
while  there  remained  sufficient  light  to  guide 
my  way.  Nothing  could  be  seen  or  heard  to 
deter  me,  and  I  advanced  up  the  passage,  my 
heart  beating  fiercely  in  the  terror  of  imagi 
nation,  yet  firmly  determined  on  my  course. 

The  foot  of  the  stairs  were  easily  found  at 
the  extremity  of  the  corridor.  They  were 
scarcely  two  feet  wide,  and  seemed  to  me  to 
be  hollowed  out  of  the  very  wall,  and  as  solid 
as  the  stones  themselves.  No  gleam  of  light 
illumined  them,  and  they  rose  so  steeply  that 
it  was  like  climbing  a  ladder,  but  the  very  fact 
that  they  were  so  easily  found  heartened  me 
[208] 


WITH  MADEMOISELLE 


to  the  attempt.  Thus  far,  at  least,  the  dwarf's 
tale  was  true,  and  my  faith  became  sensibly 
stronger.  No  better  place  of  concealment 
surely  could  be  found,  even  in  the  midst  of 
that  ruin. 

Hampered  by  my  sword  I  left  it  lying  be 
low,  and  mounted  the  steps  on  hands  and 
knees  noiselessly.  I  was  compelled  to  feel  rny 
way  in  the  intense  darkness,  and  was  only 
aware  I  had  attained  the  top  when  a  grop 
ing  hand  suddenly  came  in  contact  with 
an  oaken  scuttle  which  barred  further  pas 
sage.  It  required  some  minutes  of  investi 
gation  to  determine  the  exact  nature  of  this 
barrier,  but  finally  I  found  by  feeling,  that 
it  was  held  firmly  into  place  by  two  bolts  of 
heavy  oak  sliding  into  clefts  of  the  rock.  I 
listened  with  ear  against  the  wood,  but  no 
sound  reached  me  from  above,  and,  deter 
mined  to  learn  the  mystery  of  the  place,  I 
slipped  the  bolts  back,  holding  the  wood 
firm  with  my  other  hand.  It  gave  silently, 
supported  by  hinges,  and  thus  hung  dangling, 
leaving  a  clear  opening.  Yet  I  could  perceive 
[209] 


SHEA,  OF  THE  IRISH  BRIGADE 

nothing  in  the  vacancy  above.  There  was  a 
dim  light,  or  rather  the  darkness  overhead  was 
less  pronounced,  but  the  difference  was  not 
sufficient  to  enable  me  to  distinguish  objects 
from  where  I  stood  staring  upward.  I  ven 
tured  a  step  higher,  my  head  barely  project 
ing  through  the  narrow  opening.  Instantly 
a  voice  spoke. 

"  Go  back!  or  I  strike  you  with  the  stool  — 
go!" 

My  heart  leaped  in  swift  exultation.  It  was 
Mademoiselle!  ay!  and  alone;  ready  to  defend 
herself.  Instinctively  I  flung  up  my  hand  in 
guard,  knowing  her  words  to  be  no  idle  threat. 

"  Do  not  strike,  Mademoiselle!"  I  cried 
hastily,  "  it  is  a  friend  who  comes." 

"  A  friend !    What  friend  have  I  here?  " 

"The  man  who  served  you  last  night  — 
Arthur  Shea  "  I  answered,  not  yet  daring  to 
move. 

I  caught  the  echo  of  her  sudden  breath  of 
relief,  and  heard  the  uplifted  stool  touch  the 
floor. 

"Of  the  Irish  Brigade!    Can  it  indeed  be 

[210] 


WITH  MADEMOISELLE 


you?  Oh!  Mon  Dieul  I  am  so  glad,  Mon 
sieur —  so  glad!  Give  me  your  hand." 

Helped  by  the  warm  grasp  of  her  fingers 
I  stood  erect  on  the  floor,  aware  of  her  pres 
ence,  yet  unable  even  then  to  clearly  distin 
guish  the  outlines  of  her  figure.  If  there 
were  windows  to  the  tower  they  were  so  over 
grown  with  vines  as  to  be  useless.  While 
darkness  was  not  absolute,  as  on  the  stairs  be 
low,  yet  it  was  impossible  for  me  to  make  out 
the  surroundings,  or  realize  anything  except 
the  mere  fact  of  her  presence. 

"  You  are  alone?  "  I  asked  to  assure  myself. 

"  Yes,  Monsieur,  I  am  now,"  and  I  could 
distinguish  a  tremor  to  her  voice,  and  feel  the 
tighter  grip  of  her  hand.  "  But  he  was  here 
an  hour  ago.  I  —  I  thought  he  was  coming 
back  —  he  —  he  swore  he  would  come  when 
the  darkness  had  terrified  me.  I  was  terribly 
afraid  but  it  was  not  of  the  dark." 

"  He?    Whom  do  you  mean?  " 

"  Do  you  not  know,  Monsieur?  Do  you 
not  know  who  is  here?  who  is  the  head  of  these 
bandits?  " 


SHEA,  OF  THE  IRISH  BRIGADE 

11  You  mean  the  villain  La  Porte?  " 

"  That  is  what  they  call  him  —  yes.  But 
did  you  ever  meet  anyone  who  really  knew 
who  that  arch  fiend  was?  We  spoke  the  name 
often  enough  in  Paris,  imagining  the  man 
some  crazed  peasant,  a  wild  monster.  Then 
his  was  but  a  name  of  terror  to  be  spoken  in 
whispers,  the  name  of  a  being  too  horrible  to 
be  even  human.  We  dreamed  not  who  he 
really  was.  Did  you  in  the  camps  ever  hear 
of  anyone  who  had  seen  him?" 

"  No,  Mademoiselle.  'T  is  said  he  takes 
no  part  in  the  raids,  and  horrors  perpetrated 
under  his  name  —  that  he  merely  plans,  and 
that  even  his  lieutenants  never  look  upon  his 
face  unmasked.  This  is  what  makes  it  so  hard 
to  wipe  out  his  gang  of  desperadoes  —  their 
leader  is  unknown.  And  do  you  mean  to  say 
you  have  seen  the  fellow?  that  you  recognized 
him?" 

She  breathed  hard,  holding  my  hand 
clasped  closely  in  both  her  own,  the  words 
she  would  speak  trembling  on  her  lips. 

"  Yes,  Monsieur,"  she  whispered,  as  though 
[212] 


WITH  MADEMOISELLE 


fearful  of  the  very  shadows.  "He  is  here; 
he  has  talked  with  me  unmasked;  he  has 
threatened  me.  He  came  first  in  disguise, 
thinking  I  would  not  know  who  he  was,  but 
from  the  very  first  word  he  spoke  I  knew 
him.  Then  when  he  laid  hands  on  me,  after 
I  laughed  at  his  threatening,  I  tore  the  mask 
from  his  face  in  struggle  to  break  free.  Mon 
Dieu!  he  was  angry,  and  I  think  will  kill 
me  if  I  do  not  do  as  he  wishes.  I  had  to  lie 
to  him,  to  pretend,  'ere  he  would  leave  me 
at  all." 

"  But  you  have  not  told  me  —  who  is  the 
man?  Do  I  know  him?  " 

"  The  king's  friend,  the  Duke  de  Saule. 
I  accused  him  of  being  that  fiend  in  human 
form,  and  at  first  he  only  laughed.  Then 
he  boasted  of  it,  and  of  his  power.  Told  me 
how  helpless  I  was  to  resist  him  —  how  his 
men  would  do  whatever  he  said,  even  to  mur 
der.  This  man  is  a  brute,  a  fiend  incarnate  — 
the  courtier  in  him  is  veneer;  his  smile 
treason." 

"  I  doubt  it  not,"  I  said  soberly.  "  I  was 
[213] 


SHEA,  OF  THE  IRISH  BRIGADE 

ready  to  believe,  for  I  met  his  man,  the  hid 
eous  dwarf,  Gospele,  below,  and  made  him 
tell  me  where  you  were.  No  doubt  he  thought 
I  would  meet  his  master  here,'  or  some  of  his 
villains,  guarding  the  stair.  Yet  by  good  luck 
the  way  was  clear  of  the  vermin  and  we  came 
unhindered." 

"And  the  dwarf  —  he  has  gone  to  tell?" 
"Not  he!  I  took  no  such  chance  as  that. 
The  imp  is  shut  up  tight  enough  to  be  safe, 
in  a  cell  below.  The  fellow  told  me  no  more 
than  he  had  19,  even  under  threat.  He  denied 
that  de  Saule  was  here." 

"  You  questioned  him  about  his  master?  " 
"Ay!  because  I  connected  him  with  you 
at  once.  There  were  tales  about  you  both 
floating  around  Paris.  'T  was  said  the  man 
desired  to  marry  you,  and  had  the  aid  of  the 
king,  but  that  you  flouted  them  both,  and 
was  banished  from  court  for  your  sin.  So, 
when  you  disappeared  so  strangely,  and  I 
found  you  here  a  prisoner,  with  Gospele  en 
joying  liberty,  I  could  not  help  but  remember 
these  tales  of  idleness,  and  connect  de  Saule 
[214] 


WITH  MADEMOISELLE 


with  your  misfortune.  The  dwarf  swore  he 
was  also  a  captive  to  the  outlaws,  but  he  was 
too  free  to  come  and  go  at  will  to  bear  out  the 
story.  And  what  is  the  duke's  purpose  in  this 
outrage?  " 

(  To  compel  me  to  marry  him.  He  has  dis 
covered  force  to  be  the  only  means  by  which 
he  can  hope  to  attain  that  end.  He  told  me 
laughingly,  as  if  it  were  a  good  joke,  the 
whole  plot.  I  was  a  victim  of  his  plans  be 
fore  I  even  left  Paris.  It  was  arranged  that 
I  should  overhear  the  discussion  about  the 
dispatch,  and  the  difficulty  of  getting  it  safely 
to  Louis.  They  counted  on  my  daring,  and 
loyalty,  and  the  duke  even  boasts  that  the  king 
agreed  to  the  plan.  There  was  no  dispatch; 
only  a  blank  sheet  of  paper,  enclosed  in  an 
envelope,  stamped  with  the  official  seal  of 
France.  All  they  wished  was  to  get  me  alone 
away  from  Paris,  here  into  St.  Quentin,  where 
I  would  be  helpless,  and  without  friends.  The 
very  guide  they  sent  with  me  was  in  de  Saule's 
pay,  with  instructions  where  to  be  at  a  cer 
tain  hour.  It  was  the  unexpected  coming  of 
[215] 


SHEA,  OF  THE  IRISH  BRIGADE 

that  English  scouting  party  which  disarranged 
the  plot. 

"  De  Saule's  party  was  not  large  enough  to 
attack  them,  and  could  only  skulk  about  in 
the  dark,  seeking  some  chance  to  lay  hand  on 
me.  Then  fortune  favored  them.  They  were 
hiding  in  the  very  hut  beside  which  you  left 
me.  I  was  endeavoring  to  watch  you  in  your 
efforts  to  secure  a  horse,  and  heard  nothing. 
The  first  I  knew  I  was  seized  roughly,  and  a 
cloth  flung  over  my  face.  I  could  not  scream, 
or  make  the  slightest  outcry. 

"  They  dragged  me  with  them  —  there  were 
five  in  the  party  —  and  they  must  have  had 
a  horse,  for  I  was  lifted  to  the  back  of  an 
animal,  and  bound  there  with  ropes.  The 
cloth  was  removed  from  over  my  face,  but 
the  night  was  too  dark  for  me  to  see  much,  or 
distinguish  except  to  slight  degree  the  appear 
ance  of  my  captors. 

"  Only  one  addressed  me,  and  then  only  to 
threaten  me  if  I  made  an  outcry.  He  ap 
peared  to  be  a  very  large  man,  with  a  beard, 
and  was  evidently  in  command.  The  fellow 
[216] 


WITH  MADEMOISELLE 


who  led  the  horse  was  a  negro,  as  I  could  tell 
by  his  voice. 

"  We  came  through  a  thick  wood,  and  then 
along  a  narrow  road  where  the  men  marched 
in  single  file.  It  was  all  desolate  and  dreary; 
I  had  no  knowledge  of  where  I  was.  At  last, 
and  while  it  was  still  dark,  we  arrived  at  this 
old  castle  —  they  call  it  Roisel,  Monsieur  — 
and  they  kept  me  down  below  until  daybreak, 
because  they  were  all  afraid  of  ghosts,  and 
none  would  venture  up  the  dark  stairs.  Then 
the  big  man,  and  another  named  Deslins,  who 
later  brought  me  food,  led  me  up  here,  and 
locked  me  in.  Not  until  I  saw  the  dwarf, 
Gospele,  did  I  ever  dream  of  why  I  had  been 
captured.  I  thought  only  it  might  be  for  ran 
som.  Then  I  suspected  de  Saule  might  be 
behind  it  all." 

"  And  he  was!  he  came  himself!  " 
"  Two  hours  ago.    He  said  he  left  Paris  yes 
terday.    I  will  not  repeat  what  he  said  to  me, 
Monsieur,  but  he  protested  love,  and  pledged 
me  instant  release  if  I  would  marry  him.    I 
did  not  promise,  yet  what  could  I  do?     I 
[217] 


SHEA,  OF  THE  IRISH  BRIGADE 

must  learn  all,  and  so  I  spoke  to  him  fair 
words,  which  saved  me  from  anger,  and  won 
me  some  knowledge.  I  am  sure  he  told  me 
more  than  he  meant  to  tell,  but  he  thought 
I  would  admire  him  if  he  boasted  of  what  he 
had  done,  and  could  do.  The  man  was  ever 
a  braggart,  and  a  coward  at  heart." 

"  Did  he  tell  you  he  held  your  brother 
prisoner  also?  " 

"  Yes,  but  I  knew  that  was  not  true,  al 
though  I  did  not  tell  him.  Where  did  you 
hear,  Monsieur  —  from  Gospele?" 

"  It  was  part  of  his  tale,  and  I  actually  think 
the  fellow  believed  it  true.  He  guided  me 
to  the  room  where  the  man  had  been  con 
fined,  but  the  prisoner  had  in  some  way  es 
caped.  The  jailer,  Deslins,  is  killed ;  we  found 
his  body." 

There  was  a  moment's  silence,  in  which  I 
could  distinguish  her  breathing.  She  stood 
motionless,  her  hand  withdrawn  from  my 
grasp. 

"Who  —  who   could    it  be,    Monsieur?" 
she  asked  at  last.    "  Surely  not  Charles,  and 
[218] 


WITH  MADEMOISELLE 


yet  both  Gospele  and  de  Saule  know  him 
well." 

"  I  cannot  deem  it  possible,"  I  replied  re 
gretfully.  "  Believe  me,  Mademoiselle,  I  do 
not  know  that  your  brother  is  dead.  We 
fought,  and  my  sword  penetrated  his  guard 
and  he  fell.  The  next  instant  the  officers  of 
my  regiment  had  pushed  me  from  the  room, 
and  bade  me  ride  for  my  life.  This  is  all  I 
know.  It  may  indeed  be  that  the  capture  of 
d'Enville  was  also  a  part  of  the  plot,  yet 
it  is  scarcely  believable  that  even  if  he  was 
merely  wounded  by  my  thrust,  he  would  be 
in  condition  to  be  here.  It  is  rather  my  judg 
ment  that  these  fellows  have  by  some  devil's 
luck  made  prisoner  of  a  man  resembling  the 
chevalier  —  of  the  same  rank  —  and  have 
taken  it  for  granted  it  is  he.  Gospele  has 
seen  your  brother,  but  perhaps  only  at  a  dis 
tance,  and  it  is  quite  probable  that  de  Saule 
has  not  yet  visited  the  captive.  He  came  to 
you  first,  as  soon  as  he  arrived." 

I  caught  the  sound  of  a  half  suppressed  sob, 
and  her  hand  grasped  my  sleeve. 
[219] 


SHEA,  OF  THE  IRISH  BRIGADE 

"  Ohl  I  hope  that  is  true,  Monsieur;  I  hope 
he  is  not  here  in  the  power  of  these  cruel  men, 
and  I  pray  to  the  Virgin  that  he  be  alive.  I 
—  I  cannot  bear  to  think  that  —  that  you 
killed  him." 

"  You  care  then?  and  for  my  sake?  " 

"  How  could  I  help  it,  Monsieur?  You 
have  been  my  friend ;  you  are  here  now,  peril 
ing  your  life  to  kid  me.  I  am  grateful ;  more, 
I  am  a  woman,  and  I  care  as  a  woman  must 
I  cannot  bear  to  think  that  Charles  d'Enville 
died  from  your  hand.  I  will  not  think  it  — 
hush!  what  was  that?" 

It  was  some  movement  below  us  on  the  dark 
stair. 


[220] 


CHAPTER  XVII 

WE  FACE  THE  SITUATION 

I  KNEW  instantly  that  some  intruder  was 
cautiously  feeling  a  passage  up  those  black 
steps,  yet  it  was  the  quick  wit  of  the  woman 
which  caused  her  to  speak  first,  her  fingers 
still  gripping  my  arm  in  terror. 

"  It  is  de  Saule,  Monsieur.  Move  back 
here!  He  may  think  I  have  already  escaped 
when  he  finds  the  scuttle  open." 

The  chance  was  indeed  a  desperate  one,  but 
there  was  no  time  in  which  to  devise  a  better. 
I  could  only  yield  to  the  pressure  of  her  hand, 
hidden  in  the  gloom,  and  listening  for  every 
sound  which  indicated  the  man's  approach. 
He  came  slowly,  as  though  uncertain  of  his 
way,  yet  the  slight  noise  of  his  progress  indi 
cated  that  he  had  already  attained  the  open 
ing.  That  the  fellow  uttered  no  exclamation 
upon  discovering  the  unfastened  scuttle  was 
a  surprise.  Could  it  be  de  Saule?  Surely  he 
would  never  have  taken  the  matter  so  quietly. 

[221] 


SHEA,  OF  THE  IRISH  BRIGADE 

Yet  if  not  the  duke,  who  could  this  prowler 
be?  I  thought  of  Gassier,  of  the  escaped  pris 
oner  of  the  lower  corridor.  But  I  had  scarce 
time  in  which  to  think  at  all,  as  the  man  barely 
paused  for  an  instant  before  he  climbed  to  the 
floor  level,  and  stood  erect  peering  about  him 
through  the  gloom,  as  though  doubtful  of  his 
surroundings.  I  could  hear  his  quick,  half 
suppressed  breathing.  Then  he  started  for 
ward,  apparently  feeling  his  way  along  the 
wall,  slowly  and  cautiously,  as  though  fearful 
of  encountering  some  pitfall.  It  occurred  to 
me  the  man  was  seeking  to  discover  some 
opening  which  would  lead  to  the  roof,  and 
his  actions  convinced  me  he  could  not  be 
de  Saule.  Yet  this  did  not  prove  him  a 
friend. 

The  man  was  more  likely  to  be  one  of  the 
gang  below  on  some  exploration  for  himself, 
bold  enough  in  his  search  for  loot,  or  what 
else,  to  even  venture  amid  these  haunted  ruins. 
Whoever  he  was  I  could  take  no  chances,  for 
it  was  not  my  life  alone  which  hung  in  the 
balance.  So  I  remained  silent,  and  motion- 

[222] 


WE  FACE  THE  SITUATION 


less,  waiting  results,  but  ready  enough  to  take 
hold  if  occasion  warranted. 

He  must  have  found  nothing  but  solid  wall, 
for  step  by  step  he  circled  the  tower,  blindly 
groping  his  way,  until  he  was  within  arm's 
length  of  us.  I  was  between  him  and  Made 
moiselle,  and  took  one  step  forward  to  have 
clear  space  for  a  struggle  which  was  now 
inevitable.  Then  his  fingers  touched  me,  and 
he  uttered  a  muffled  exclamation  in  French, 
stifled  by  the  grip  of  my  hand  on  his  throat. 
Yet  even  as  I  pressed  him  against  the  wall, 
struggling  madly  in  his  first  alarm  to  break 
free,  I  became  convinced  of  who  he  was. 

"  Gassier?  " 

"  Ay!  "  he  sputtered,  as  my  fingers  relaxed. 
"  Let  go  of  me.  Saint  Denis!  you  have  the 
clutch  of  a  wild  beast.  Are  you  the  Irish 
man?" 

"  Yes,  how  came  you  here?  What  may  be 
the  purpose  of  all  this?  I  left  you  at  the  stair 
head  to  keep  guard,  but  found  you  not  when 
I  returned.  Did  you  then  desert  me  like  a 
coward?" 

f  223  ] 


SHEA,  OF  THE  IRISH  BRIGADE 

"  Not  I,"  growling  out  the  words  in  sud 
den  anger  at  my  tone.  "  But  it  was  not  my 
thought  that  you  wished  me  to  be  seen,  and 
there  were  others  prowling  through  these 
ruins.  I  feared  as  much,  and  so  hid  within  an 
alcove  where  I  could  see  and  not  be  seen.  I 
knew  the  dead  man  had  not  killed  himself.  It 
was  well  I  did  hide,  for  you  had  not  gone  ten 
minutes,  when  a  man  slipped  out  of  a  side 
room,  and  stole  silently  to  the  top  of  the  stairs. 
I  could  not  see  well,  but  he  was  roughly 
dressed,  and  seemed  to  be  trying  to  escape  un 
seen.  I  believed  him  to  be  the  murderer,  one 
of  the  outlaws  who  had  thus  paid  off  a  per 
sonal  grudge,  and  thought  of  nothing  then  bat 
how  to  get  safely  away  before  his  crime  was 
discovered. 

"  I  could  only  crouch  in  the  corner  and 
watch.  But  the  fellow  appeared  to  be  afraid 
to  venture  down  the  steps,  and  he  waited  too 
long.  Suddenly  there  was  the  sound  of  steps 
in  the  corridor,  as  though  someone  approached 
making  no  attempt  at  concealment.  The  fug 
itive  must  have  heard  them  first,  for  he  faced 
[224] 


WE  FACE  THE  SITUATION 


about,  and  then  sprang  back  into  the  shelter 
of  the  same  alcove  which  protected  me.  We 
came  face  to  face,  the  mutual  astonishment 
and  surprise  so  great  we  remained  motionless, 
staring  into  each  other's  eyes  in  startled  rec 
ognition.  Neither  dared  move  a  foot,  or  ut 
ter  a  word,  yet  neither  was  wholly  sure  of  the 
other.  The  face  confronting  me,  roughened 
by  exposure,  and  a  sprouting  beard,  bore 
strange  resemblance  to  the  Chevalier  d'En- 
ville.  Yet,  in  view  of  what  you  had  told  me, 
I  could  not  believe  the  testimony  of  my  own 
eyes.  But  seemingly  he  knew  me  also,  and 
gave  a  swift  signal  for  silence.  Thus  we  stood 
while  the  man  outside  drew  nearer,  his  foot 
steps  sounding  loud  in  the  stillness.  But, 
Monsieur,  you  are  not  alone!" 

"Tig  Mademoiselle  d'Enville,"  I  said 
shortly.  "  You  need  not  fear  her,"  and  added : 
"This  is  the  man  I  released  from  imprison 
ment —  Captain  Gassier,  of  the  Regiment  of 
Touraine." 

"  And  you  thought  the  stranger  might  be 
my  brother,  Monsieur?"  she  questioned 
[225] 


SHEA,  OF  THE  IRISPI  BRIGADE 

eagerly,  stepping  in  front  of  me  as  though 
seeking  to  see  his  face  through  the  gloom. 

"  There  was  a  resemblance,"  he  replied  re 
luctantly,  unaware  of  what  she  might  know 
regarding  our  quarrel.  "  I  could  not  tell  with 
certainty  —  the  light  was  bad." 

"You  knew  Charles  d'Enville?" 

"  I  have  seen  him  often,  Mademoiselle,  but 
always  in  uniform,  and  at  his  best." 

"  Let  us  not  waste  time,"  I  broke  in  hastily. 
"  There  is  nothing  to  hide  from  the  lady,  Cap 
tain  Gassier.  I  have  told  her  all  that  occurred 
in  the  camp,  and  why  I  am  a  fugitive.  Was 
the  man  the  Chevalier  d'Enville?" 

"  As  God  is  my  witness  I  do  not  know.  How 
could  he  be  if  you  killed  him,  Monsieur?  All 
I  can  say  is  that  he  looked  like  him,  so  much  as 
to  startle  me,  but  he  was  roughly  dressed,  and 
unbarbered  —  " 

"  Were  his  clothes  those  of  the  jailer,  think 
you?" 

"  Likely  enough,  although  I  never  saw  the 
man  you  mean,  for  it  was  a  negro  who  waited 
on  me.    Could  I  have  talked  with  him  I  would 
[226] 


WE  FACE  THE  SITUATION 


have  learned  who  he  was  —  but  all  I  really 
know  is  that  he  was  seeking  escape,  and  that 
he  resembled  d'Enville." 

"  You  exchanged  no  word?  " 

"  No  more  than  a  whisper  imploring  si 
lence.  We  both  realized  we  were  hiding  from 
discovery,  and  must  help  each  other.  There 
was  no  opportunity  to  speak;  we  could  only 
stare  into  each  other's  faces,  and  listen,  fairly 
holding  our  breaths.  I  could  not  even  see 
what  was  occurring  in  the  corridor  from 
where  I  stood,  yet  the  sound  of  the  newcom 
er's  steps  told  me  he  was  within  a  few  feet 
of  where  we  hid.  He  came  to  the  stair-head, 
and  called  a  name." 

"What  name?" 

"  Gospele,  or  Gos  —  something;  I  could 
not  tell  clearly,  but  the  other  man  drew  a 
deep  breath,  and  his  lips  set,  as  though  the 
sound  stung  his  ears.  Do  you  know  such  a 
name,  Monsieur?  " 

"Ay!  we  both  know  it,  and  can  guess  the 
speaker.  But  go  on.  We  must  know  what 
happened  to  you  two." 

[227] 


SHEA,  OF  THE  IRISH  BRIGADE 

"  'T  was  all  soon  over  with.  There  was  no 
reply,  and  he  called  again,  his  voice  heavier 
with  anger.  Yet  no  one  answered ;  and  I  think 
the  man  walked  across  the  corridor  into  the 
great  hall.  He  was  gone  scarce  a  moment, 
not  long  enough  for  us  to  venture  to  slip  away, 
and  then  came  back,  and  bawled  down  the 
stairs  to  some  guards  below,  bidding  them 
come  up,  for  there  was  a  dead  body  on  the 
floor.  Instantly  a  half  dozen  men  swarmed 
up  the  steps.  We  could  hear  their  voices,  and 
the  crunch  of  their  heavy  boots.  The  man 
above  swore  as  he  gave  his  orders,  bidding 
two  of  them  pick  up  the  dead  man,  and  the 
others  search  after  the  murderer.  He  seemed 
to  be  afraid ;  I  heard  him  call :  *  Move  quick 
now  while  there  is  light,  you  rascals!  It  is 
Deslins  who  has  been  killed.  Mon  Dieu! 
there  is  treachery  here,  and  you  will  answer 
to  me  if  you  do  n't  find  the  murderer!  Search 
every  black  corner,  and  bring  the  villain  here, 
dead  or  alive  I  Stop;  have  any  of  you  seen 
the  dwarf?'  A  deep  voice  answered,  'No, 
Monsieur,  he  has  not  come  down.'  The  other 
[228! 


WE  FACE  THE  SITUATION 


swore  again  *  Where  then  is  the  fellow? 
Do  n't  stand  there :  do  as  I  order  you  1 '  There 
was  no  time  for  us  to  think  or  plan.  We  knew 
that  without  a  word.  In  another  moment  they 
would  have  us  helplessly  trapped.  Nor  was 
there  a  way  of  escape,  except  through  the 
door  of  the  alcove.  I  hesitated,  but  the  other 
man  gripped  the  chance  desperately.  I  felt 
his  hands  on  my  shoulder,  his  lips  at  my  ear. 
1  We  must  go  through  them,'  he  said.  '  Come 
on  I '  I  leaped  after  him,  Monsieur,  but  there 
was  little  for  me  to  do  save  run  for  my  life. 
Never  have  I  seen  such  a  thunderbolt.  He 
was  like  a  crazed  man,  and  they  were  so  sur 
prised  that  they  ran  as  from  a  ghost.  One  he 
struck,  and  another  he  flung  bodily  down  the 
stairs,  and  then  I  saw  him  land  with  his  fist 
straight  into  the  face  of  the  better  dressed  man 
among  them,  and  over  he  went,  like  an  ox 
floored  by  a  butcher.  There  was  only  one  fel 
low  between  me  and  the  dark  corridor,  and  I 
gave  him  the  prick  of  my  knife,  jumped 
across  him  and  ran!  'Twas  nothing  to  me 
what  became  of  the  other.  He  must  look  after 
[229] 


SHEA,  OF  THE  IRISH  BRIGADE 

himself.  My  hope  was  that  in  the  excitement 
the  cowards  might  not  know  there  were  two  of 
us,  if  I  could  only  get  quickly  out  of  sight. 
So  I  ran,  leaving  them  striking  and  cursing 
behind  me." 

"  You  deserted  a  comrade!  "  burst  in  Made 
moiselle  indignantly.  "And  boast  of  it!" 

"That  fellow!  Faith,  he  was  no  comrade 
of  mine.  One  of  the  brood  himself,  no  doubt. 
I  cared  nothing  for  his  skin.  Neither  of  us 
had  interest  save  to  get  away,  and  I  took  the 
chance,  and  won." 

"  You  escaped  then  unhurt?  " 

"  Only  for  a  bruise  when  I  struck  against 
a  projection  of  wall  in  the  dark." 

"And  the  other  man?" 

"  I  know  nothing  of  what  may  have  hap 
pened  to  him,"  and  his  voice  sounded  ag 
grieved,  as  though  he  could  not  comprehend 
why  she  should  question  so  persistently.  "  Be 
cause  he  chanced  to  resemble  your  brother, 
Mademoiselle,  meant  nothing  to  me,  for  I 
knew  he  was  not  here.  So  I  ran  the  best  I 
could.  It  was  dark  in  the  corridor,  and  no  one 
[  230  ]  • 


WE  FACE  THE  SITUATION 


followed  me,  but  I  had  no  knowledge  where 
the  passage  led,  and  turned  into  the  first  open 
ing  which  offered  shelter.  It  was  a  large 
room,  with  not  even  a  window  in  the  wall, 
and  I  crouched  down  behind  a  stone  bench 
and  waited.  They  were  still  fighting  outside, 
although  the  noise  reaching  me  was  faint.  I 
could  hear  voices,  blows,  and  the  shuffling  of 
feet,  but  this  did  not  last  long.  I  do  not  know 
what  the  end  was,  but  a  little  later  I  heard  the 
voice  of  the  man  who  seemed  in  command  of 
the  ruffians,  telling  some  among  them  to  search 
the  big  banquet  room  for  the  fellow  whose 
name  he  called  at  first,  and  ordering  others  to 
carry  the  body  of  the  dead  man  downstairs." 
"He  was  killed  then?" 
c  I  did  not  know  which  he  meant,  Made 
moiselle.  "  It  might  have  been  Deslins.  All 
I  could  determine  clearly  was  that  the  fellows 
would  not  go.  It  was  growing  dark,  and  they 
were  afraid.  They  spoke  ugly  about  it,  and, 
finally,  they  all  went  down  the  stairs,  cursing 
like  a  lot  of  pirates.  I  could  n't  make  out  just 
what  the  trouble  was." 

[231  ] 


SHEA,  OF  THE  IRISH  BRIGADE 

"  It  is  plain  enough  to  me,"  I  said,  as  he 
paused  as  if  his  story  was  done.  "  They  think 
this  old  pile  is  haunted,  and  not  one  of  the 
foul  brood  would  venture  up  here  alone  at 
night.  Not  even  de  Saule  could  bribe  them 
to  it,  and  I  doubt  his  own  nerve  for  such  a 
trip." 

"  De  Saule!  the  king's  favorite?" 
"  Ay,  man !  It  was  de  Saule  beyond  a  doubt. 
He  is  either  at  the  head  of  these  villains,  which 
I  begin  to  believe,  or  is  so  connected  with  their 
operations  as  to  use  them  freely  on  occasion. 
He  has  been  here,  in  this  tower,  talking  to, 
and  threatening  Mademoiselle.  He  would 
compel  her  to  marry  him,  and  she  was  cap 
tured,  and  brought  here,  according  to  his  plan. 
It  is  all  a  foul  plot,  into  which  you  and  I  have 
drifted  by  accident.  I  know  not  whether  the 
third  man  be  d'Enville  —  God  knows  I  hope 
it  prove  so,  for  I  want  not  the  stain  of  his  blood 


on  me." 


"But  you  said  you  killed  him?"  he  ex 
claimed,  and  I  felt  the  clasp  of  her  hands  on 
my  sleeve. 

[232] 


WE  FACE  THE  SITUATION 


"  I  fled  thinking  so,  yet  it  might  not  have 
been  a  mortal  wound.  One  knows  little  where 
a  sword  thrust  goes  in  heat  of  battle.  How 
ever  this  is  no  time  to  discuss  the  affair.  The 
man  was  de  Saule,  and  it  was  the  dwarf  Gos- 
pele  for  whom  he  called,  an  imp  of  darkness 
well  fitted  for  his  purpose.  The  outlaws  have 
departed  then?  " 

"  Not  far,  Monsieur.  I  waited  until  it  was 
dark  and  all  was  still  before  I  crept  out  again, 
and  then  stole  along  the  corridor  to  the  head 
of  the  stairs.  They  were  there  in  the  great 
hall  below,  a  dozen,  or  more,  of  the  fellows. 
They  had  lights,  and  were  on  guard.  There 
was  a  sentry  at  the  foot  of  the  steps,  staring 
up  into  the  darkness  above,  as  though  he  ex 
pected  a  ghost  to  descend,  and  another  at  the 
other  side.  Some  of  the  villains  had  blankets, 
and  were  lying  on  the  stone  floor.  Faith !  they 
had  me  blocked  —  a  mouse  could  not  get 
through  unseen." 

"  And  de  Saule  —  was  he  with  them?  " 

"  I  saw  nothing  of  the  man,  although  there 
was  a  fellow  off  in  a  corner  by  himself  with 
[233] 


SHEA,  OF  THE  IRISH  BRIGADE 

his  head  tied  up,  as  though  nursing  a  wound. 
The  man  who  walked  about,  and  seemed  to 
give  orders,  was  a  giant  with  a  scraggy  beard, 
and  who  swore  like  a  fiend." 

I  understood  the  situation  clearly  enough 
now,  and  it  was  sufficiently  desperate  to  call 
for  all  my  wit  if  I  would  solve  it.  The  trap 
was  set,  and  there  seemed  no  way  out.  So  far 
as  I  knew  those  stairs  alone  led  to  the  entrance, 
and  the  open  air.  There  was  no  other  way 
of  escape.  That  this  was  true  was  now  con 
firmed  by  the  action  of  the  men  seeking  to 
capture  us.  Afraid  to  explore  the  upper  gal 
leries  in  the  night,  they  felt  perfectly  safe  so 
long  as  they  guarded  the  stairway,  knowing 
that  whoever  might  be  above  could  find  no 
other  passage.  Probably  they  had  no  concep 
tion  of  the  real  situation.  As  I  thought  of  it 
all  I  came  finally  to  this  conclusion:  the  man 
who  might  be  the  chevalier,  must  have  suc 
ceeded  in  breaking  away  from  his  antagonists, 
and  had  fled  somewhere  into  the  dark  pas 
sage.  That  was  why  de  Saule  had  endeavored 
to  make  his  men  search  the  big  room.  The 
[234] 


WE  FACE  THE  SITUATION 


fugitive  had  gone  that  way.  And  the  fellows 
refused  to  follow  in  the  dark.  It  was  there 
fore  in  hope  of  capturing  him  the  guard  was 
set  below.  He  was  the  only  one  of  whose 
presence  they  were  aware.  Yet  the  killing  of 
Deslins,  the  mysterious  disappearance  of  Cos- 
pele,  and  the  reckless  fight  the  man  made  to 
escape  capture,  would  convince  them  of  his 
desperate  character. 

They  knew  nothing  of  my  being  in  the  cas 
tle —  thanks  to  some  rare  good  fortune  —  nor 
of  the  release  of  Gassier.  They  might  not 
even  be  aware  that  two  men  had  attacked  the 
party  at  the  head  of  the  stairs.  It  was  all  the 
riot  of  an  instant,  and  in  such  fighting  one 
scarcely  knows  what  has  occurred.  No,  it  was 
the  stranger  they  were  after,  and  they  were 
convinced  there  was  no  other  way  by  which 
he  could  get  out.  They  could  simply  wait 
there  until  he  walked  into  their  trap.  He 
could  do  that,  or  kill  himself,  just  as  he 
pleased.  Either  choice  was  satisfactory  to 
those  fellows  —  the  end  the  same. 

And  how  much  better  off  were  we  situated? 
[235] 


SHEA,  OF  THE  IRISH  BRIGADE 

There  were  three  of  us,  for  the  lady  was  of 
fighting  race  and  would  bear  her  part,  and 
we  would  possess  the  advantage  of  surprise. 
For  arms  we  had  a  pistol,  a  knife,  and  my 
sword  lying  at  the  foot  of  the  tower  stairs. 
Mademoiselle's  weapon  had  been  taken  from 
her.  If  we  could  manage  to  unite  with  the 
strange  man  hiding  somewhere  amid  these 
branching  corridors,  we  could  show  a  battling 
strength  not  to  be  despised.  We  might,  at 
least,  defend  ourselves  from  attack,  although 
it  would  be  a  desperate  deed  to  attempt  forc 
ing  passage  through  that  guard  of  ruffians  be 
low.  Yet,  from  all  appearance,  we  possessed 
the  night  in  which  to  explore,  and  perfect 
some  plan. 

There  was  hope  that  some  other  way 
out  might  be  revealed,  even  although  un 
known  to  our  besiegers.  Surely  in  those 
days  of  treachery  and  intrigue  when  this  cas 
tle  was  built  some  secret  passage  must  have 
been  constructed  some  means  of  escape  pro 
vided  other  than  that  main  staircase.  We 
must  seek  blindly  in  the  dark,  but  the  thought 
[236] 


brought  with  it  a  faint  glimmer  of  hope.  At 
least  I  knew  where  a  stairway  led  to  the  roof. 
These  reflections  flashed  across  my  mind,  and 
even  as  I  reached  a  decision  the  hand  of  the 
girl  tightened  its  grasp  on  my  sleeve. 

"  What  are  we  to  do,  Monsieur?  "  she  asked, 
her  voice  trembling,  yet  with  a  confidence  in 
me  that  somehow  strengthened  my  own  heart. 
11  Where  are  we  to  go?  " 


[2371 


CHAPTER  XVIII 

THE  DEATH  OF  GASSIER 

CLASPING  the  hand  on  my  arm,  I  held 
it  tightly,  my  veins  throbbing  in  swift 
response  to  her  confident  appeal.  She  trusted 
me,  and  somehow,  God  helping  me,  I  meant 
to  prove  worthy.  I  felt  already  a  difference 
in  the  attitude  of  the  girl,  as  though  the  doubt 
of  her  brother's  death  at  my  hands  had  re 
moved  a  barrier  between  us.  If  the  strange 
man  hiding  in  the  ruins  was  indeed  Charles 
d'Enville  it  was  worth  all  possible  effort  to 
discover  the  fact.  How  strongly  I  wished  this 
might  prove  true  came  to  me  in  sudden  reve 
lation,  almost  choking  back  the  words  I 
sought  to  utter  coolly. 

"  I  have  not  yet  thought  it  all  out,  Made 
moiselle,"  I  replied,  with  all  the  assurance 
I  could  muster.  "  But  first  I  would  view  the 
situation  with  my  own  eyes.  Then  perhaps 
we  can  plan  some  way  to  overcome  the  vil 
lains.  I  am  not  one  to  yield  without  trying. 
[238] 


THE  DEATH  OF  GASSIER 


Come,  Gassier,  we  will  go  below,  and  find 
out  what  can  be  done.  You  have  a  weapon?  " 

"  Yes,  but  only  the  one  load." 

He  appeared  reluctant  to  proceed,  yet  fol 
lowed  as  I  slowly  descended  the  steps  and 
helped  the  lady  to  find  safe  footing.  At  the 
foot  I  recovered  my  sword,  and  buckled  the 
belt  about  my  waist;  then,  holding  tightly  to 
her,  stole  stealthily  along  the  dark  passage 
way,  the  gloom  so  dense  no  object  could  be 
discerned.  However  there  was  nothing  to 
fear,  unless  we  might  accidentally  come  across 
the  escaped  prisoner,  and  get  to  hand  grips 
before  an  explanation  could  be  made.  Such 
a  possibility  did  not  deter  me,  for  this  was 
the  corridor  down  which  Gassier  had  run,  and 
the  other  man  had  probably  disappeared  in 
the  opposite  direction,  if  he  also  had  really 
succeeded  in  breaking  away  from  his  oppo 
nents.  As  to  those  fellows  below  it  was  plain 
they  had  no  intention  of  venturing  up  stairs 
again  until  the  return  of  daylight.  They  were 
more  afraid  of  ghosts,  and  the  phantoms  of 
their  imaginations,  than  of  any  human  enemy. 
[239] 


SHEA,  OF  THE  IRISH  BRIGADE 

Of  course  de  Saule  might  be  above  such  super 
stitious  fear,  but  he  was  scarce  reckless  enough 
to  explore  those  black  corridors  alone,  and 
his  chance  of  getting  volunteers  to  follow  his 
lead  was  small. 

The  night  air  blew  chill  through  the  pas 
sage,  and  the  walls  felt  damp  and  cold.  We 
moved  silently,  feeling  our  way,  until  we  came 
to  where  a  reflection  of  light  from  the  great 
hall  below  stole  up  the  broad  stone  stairs, 
and  faintly  revealed  our  surroundings.  Then 
for  the  first  time  I  was  enabled  to  perceive  the 
face  of  Mademoiselle,  whom  I  held  close  to 
me.  Her  cheeks  were  colorless,  yet  she  smiled 
bravely  back  into  my  eyes  as  our  glances  met. 
I  could  not  withhold  an  ardent  expression  of 
admiration  and  sympathy. 

"  I  am  glad  to  see  you  keep  a  strong  heart," 
I  whispered,  unwilling  Gassier  should  over 
hear,  "  and  feel  confidence  in  me.  This  is  a 
hard  task  for  a  woman." 

She  managed  to  smile,  but  I  thought  her 
eyes  were  misty. 

"  I  am  so  hopeful  he  is  alive,  Monsieur," 
[240] 


THE  DEATH  OF  GASSIER 


she  answered  in  the  same  low  tone,  "  and  that 
we  shall  find  him." 

"  It  is  all  for  his  sake  then  you  keep  such 
courage?  " 

"  No,  Monsieur,"  reproachfully,  "  it  is  for 
your  sake  also.  Could  I  wish  my  brother's 
blood  to  stain  your  hands?  You  have  been 
my  friend,  and  yet  this  deed  of  anger  lies 
between  us.  You  will  understand." 

"  Yes,  I  understand,  and  hope  as  you  do. 
If  Charles  d'Enville  lives  we  shall  know  to 
night.  I  pray  it  may  be  so  for  your  sake,  as 
well  as  mine.  I  would  not  have  his  death 
upon  my  soul,  and  —  and  besides  —  " 

I  hesitated,  surprised  at  the  words  trem 
bling  on  my  lips. 

"  And  what,  Monsieur?  " 

"  I  hardly  know;  I  dare  not  say,"  I  blurted 
out.  "  Only  I  care  so  much  because  of  you, 
because  of  our  friendship.  It  would  ever  be  a 
barrier  between  us." 

I  felt  her  hand  touch  mine  gently. 

"  Yet  I  do  not  blame,  Monsieur,"  she  said 
softly.  "  I  believe  what  you  have  told  me. 
[241]  ' 


SHEA,  OF  THE  IRISH  BRIGADE 

It  was  a  fair  crossing  of  swords,  and  had 
Charles  not  fallen,  he  would  have  struck  you 
down." 

"  It  was  a  quarrel  of  hot-heads,  and  whether 
I  was  justified  or  not,  it  would  be  impossible 
for  his  sister  to  forgive  and  forget." 

"  I  could  forgive,  Monsieur,  for  I  know  sol 
diers,  and  how  easily  they  draw  sword.  I  am 
not  a  girl  unacquainted  with  life.  I  believe 
you  did  only  as  any  high  spirited  man  would 
do." 

"You  mean  you  trust  me?" 

"  Implicitly,  Monsieur;  you  may  hold  me 
your  friend." 

"  Whether  Charles  d'Enville  be  dead  or 
alive?  " 

"  Yes,"  her  eyes  falling  before  mine.  "  I 
do  not  say  I  can  forget,  or  wholly  blot  out 
the  memory.  That  would  be  asking  too  much, 
would  it  not?  But  I  am  not  vindictive,  or 
revengeful;  I  know  his  temper,  and  doubt  not 
he  was  more  to  blame  than  you  for  the  quarrel. 
So  I  am  going  to  trust  you,  Monsieur." 

"And  like  me?" 

[242] 


THE  DEATH  OF  GASSIER 


'  That  has  never  been  hard,"  the  words 
came  swiftly  enough,  but  with  an  instant  of 
hesitation.  "  Perhaps  that  is  why  I  can  for 
give  so  easily.  Do  not  question  me  any  more, 
Monsieur.  Is  it  not  enough  that  I  confess  this? 
that  I  give  you  my  —  my  confidence?  We 
are  in  peril,  in  great  danger  still." 

"  I  know,  yet  it  is  those  very  words  you 
have  spoken  which  give  me  courage  to  face 
whatever  may  come.  I  will  think  clearer,  and 
fight  better,  because  of  your  faith.  You  give 
me  heart  and  hope,  Mademoiselle."  I  bent, 
and  touched  my  lips  to  her  hand.  "  This  old 
castle,  if  history  be  true,  witnessed  courage 
and  devotion  before,  even  to  death;  and  to 
night  it  shall  know  that  the  same  spirit  sur 
vives.  Somehow  we  shall  thwart  those 
villains.  But  let  us  move  forward  and  gain 
glimpse  down  the  stairs." 

There  were  torches  below  and  lanterns,  but 
the  greater  light  came  from  a  fire,  kindled  in 
a  slight  depression  of  the  stone  floor.  A  pile 
of  fagots  lay  near  by,  and  as  I  attained  a  posi 
tion  where  I  could  see  clearly  what  was  trans- 
[243] 


SHEA,  OF  THE  IRISH  BRIGADE 

piring  below,  two  men  came  forward  from 
the  direction  of  the  main  entrance  loaded  with 
more  of  the  fuel,  which  they  flung  noisily 
down.  This  alone  was  sufficient  proof  that 
the  fellows  anticipated  a  long  night's  vigil, 
and  were  preparing  against  the  cold  damp 
ness  of  the  great  chamber.  The  red  glare  of 
the  leaping  flames  rendered  the  scene  pecu 
liarly  fantastic  and  demoniac.  Mademoiselle 
pressed  closely  beside  me  as  we  leaned  for 
ward  to  look,  and  I  heard  Gassier  give  utter 
ance  to  an  oath  in  the  excitement  of  his  first 
glance.  The  vast  apartment  was  —  in  spite 
of  the  size  of  the  fire  —  illumined  only  in  part, 
shadows  lurking  along  the  walls.  But  its  bare 
ness  was  apparent,  and  its  ruined  condition 
accentuated  by  the  revealing  glow  of  flame.  I 
counted  fourteen  men  in  the  party,  includ 
ing  the  fagot  bearers  who  disappeared  for  an 
other  load,  roughly  dressed  fellows,  many  of 
them  bearded,  and  to  all  appearance  peasants, 
undisciplined,  yet  of  good  enough  fighting  ma 
terial.  There  was  no  semblance  of  uniform, 
or  aught  to  indicate  rank. 
[244] 


THE  DEATH  OF  GASSIER 


The  man  who  appeared  to  exercise  com 
mand,  was,  if  anything,  more  disreputably  at 
tired  than  his  followers,  and  a  more  desperate 
looking  villain  —  a  huge  fellow,  a  bit  round- 
shouldered,  with  long  gray  hair  uncombed, 
and  a  beard  reaching  nearly  to  his  waist.  He 
wore  a  short  jerkin  of  leather,  discolored  and 
ragged,  and  a  belt  containing  two  pistols  and 
a  knife.  The  men  were  all  armed,  even  as 
they  lay  lounging  about  the  fire,  their  equip 
ment,  however,  being  mostly  ugly  looking 
knives,  unsheathed.  I  could  perceive  few  fire 
arms,  although  the  sentinels  bore  guns,  and 
there  were  two  others  leaning  against  the 
lower  stair.  Most  of  the  men,  with  pipes  in 
their  mouths,  were  lying  down,  a  few  with 
blankets  to  protect  them  from  the  hard  stones. 
Others  were  seated,  as  close  to  the  fire  as  they 
could  stand  the  blaze,  and  one  was  indus 
triously  polishing  his  knife  blade.  There  was 
little  conversation,  although  one  of  them 
seemed  to  be  telling  a  story  to  a  group  of 
which  he  was  the  center,  and  the  big  leader 
occasionally  called  out  some  gruff  order, 

[245] 


SHEA,  OF  THE  IRISH  BRIGADE 

usually  accompanied  by  an  oath.  That  he  was 
feared,  and  ruled  his  motley  crew  by  sheer 
terror,  was  evidenced  by  the  swiftness  with 
which  the  fellows  obeyed.  Once  he  struck  a 
man  who  failed  to  jump  instantly  at  his  bid 
ding,  and  kicked  him  brutally  with  a  booted 
foot,  but  the  others  scarcely  glanced  about 
to  view  the  trouble,  and  the  fellow  thus  mis 
used  slunk  away  in  cowed  silence. 

The  sentinel  at  the  foot  of  the  stairs  never 
removed  his  eyes  from  the  darkness  above,  or 
changed  the  posture  of  his  gun.  A  moment 
later  the  messenger  thus  roughly  dispatched, 
returned  within  the  fire  gleam,  accompanied 
by  de  Saule.  I  knew  the  fiend  instantly  — 
even  without  the  swift  warning  grasp  of 
Mademoiselle  on  my  arm  —  although  his  face 
was  so  wrapped  in  a  cloth  as  to  scarcely  re 
veal  more  than  the  eyes.  Whether  this  was 
worn  for  concealment,  or  to  hide  a  wound,  I 
do  not  know,  but  the  insolent,  swaggering 
gait  of  the  fellow,  and  the  arrogant  tone  of  his 
voice,  were  sufficient  to  reveal  his  identity. 
He  came  up  to  the  graybeard  angrily  and 
[246] 


THE  DEATH  OF  GASSIER 


domineering,  speaking  in  a  voice  plainly  audi 
ble  even  where  we  lay  hugging  the  floor 
above. 

"  What  does  this  mean,  Guieteau?  That 
rapscallion  says  you  refuse  to  order  a  search. 
Mon  Dieuf  do  you  forget  so  easily  who  I 
am?  Do  you  not  know  this  is  the  king's  busi 
ness,  and  no  mere  task  of  robbery?  Answer 
me!" 

"  'T  is  not  that  I  refuse,  Monsieur,"  re 
plied  the  other,  his  voice  strangely  softened. 
"  But  the  men  will  not  go.  They  are  more 
afraid  of  what  they  may  meet  with  up  yonder 
than  of  my  threats  and  blows." 

"  What!  of  one  man,  and  he  unarmed! " 

"  It  is  not  one  man,  or  a  dozen,  Monsieur. 
The  thing  which  frightens  is  not  of  the  earth 
—  spirits  of  the  dead  haunt  those  corridors." 

De  Saule  laughly  harshly,  yet  I  noted  his 
glance  strayed  upward,  and  his  hand  clinched. 

"Ghosts!  Good  Lord!  I  might  believe 
such  superstition  could  scare  those  fellows, 
but  not  you  and  I,  Guieteau.  We  have  got 
over  that  long  ago." 

[247] 


SHEA,  OF  THE  IRISH  BRIGADE 

The  graybeard  hesitated,  twisting  himself 
about,  and  tugging  at  his  knife  hilt. 

"  I  am  no  coward,  Monsieur,  as  you  well 
know,  and  have  done  your  will  more  than 
once  when  there  was  danger.  But  there  are 
ghosts  here — I  have  seen  them." 

"Ghosts!  Bah!  you  have  seen  shadows, 
and  strange  lights,  no  doubt.  Perchance  some 
rascal  playing  a  trick,  but  that  would  be  all. 
I  tell  you  the  dead  are  dead,  Guieteau,  and 
can  do  no  harm  to  the  living.  What  is  it  you 
saw  that  has  changed  your  blood  to  water?  " 

"  Monsieur  le  Duke,"  returned  the  other 
solemnly.  "  You  have  known  me  long,  and 
found  me  faithful  —  is  that  not  true?  " 

De  Saule  nodded,  his  glance  still  up  the 
stairs.  "  I  have  served  you  as  a  soldier,  and 
since  then  as  your  lieutenant  here.  I  have 
no  fear  of  man,  nor  of  death  and  wounds. 
There  was  a  time  when  I  also  laughed  at  phan 
toms  and  sneered  at  ghostly  presence.  But 
't  is  not  so  now.  Not  the  king,  not  even  you, 
Monsieur,  could  make  me  range  those  pas 
sages  above  in  this  black  night.  Nor  will  I 
[248] 


THE  DEATH  OF  GASSIER 


send  others  to  the  task.  This  pile  is  haunted 
by  the  spirits  of  the  dead;  I  have  seen  them, 
and  I  know." 

The  gravity  with  which  the  fellow  spoke 
even  affected  de  Saule,  and  he  stood  staring 
into  the  rough  face,  half  convinced  already. 

"You  have  seen  them.  Bah!  you  dream. 
Where?  What  were  they  like?  " 

"  You  may  not  believe,  but  I  will  tell  you 
what  I  know,"  and  the  men  about  the  fire, 
attracted  by  their  voices,  sat  up  listening,  sev 
eral  of  them  creeping  closer  in  eagerness  to 
hear.  "  We  have  rendezvoused  here  for  six 
months  now,  and  not  a  night  but  what  strange 
lights  have  been  seen  at  the  windows  above. 
And  we  have  heard  noises  —  the  sound  of 
steel  on  steel,  with  laughter  and  shouting. 
Sacre!  it  got  on  the  nerves  of  the  best  of  us, 
for  we  could  not  make  out  what  it  was,  or  the 
cause.  Again  and  again  in  the  daylight  have 
I  searched  the  passages  from  dungeon  to  tow 
ers,  and  found  nothing.  There  is  not  a  room, 
or  cell,  or  secret  stair  that  I  have  not  explored, 
nor  hole  I  have  not  peered  into.  Everywhere 
[249] 


SHEA,  OF  THE  IRISH  BRIGADE 

they  were  vacant  and  cold  —  not  so  much  as 
a  rat  ran  across  the  floor.  Yet  when  night 
came  there  were  men  and  women  here,  shad 
owy,  spectral  things,  making  merry  in  a 
strange  light  that  dazed  the  eyes. 

"  One  night,  Monsieur,  I  dared  them,  and 
crept  up  these  stairs  in  the  dark,  as  far  as  the 
great  room  where  they  say  a  king  died. 
I  had  given  Jules  and  Francois  here  a 
handful  of  gold  each  to  go  with  me,  and  we 
had  pistols  in  our  hands.  We  were  at  the  dias, 
staring  about  us  through  the  dark,  hearing  and 
seeing  nothing,  but  with  our  hearts  beating 
like  mad  from  fear,  when,  all  at  once  they 
came.  They  seemed  to  issue  from  the  very 
walls,  shadowy  and  white.  I  saw  faces,  and 
long  locks  of  hair,  and  arms  outstretched. 
There  was  a  sound  like  the  beating  of  a  drum. 
Mon  Dieuf  I  took  one  look,  and  ran.  I 
know  not  how  we  got  down  those  stairs  alive, 
or  out  into  the  air,  but  Francois  was  all  cut 
falling  on  the  stones,  and  Jules'  hair  has  been 
white  ever  since." 

"  Imagination ;  the  three  of  you  went  creep- 
[250] 


THE  DEATH  OF  GASSIER 


ing  up  there  scared  half  to  death  in  the  dark. 
Did  no  one  of  you  fire?  " 

"  Ay,  Francois  did,  and  we  found  the  next 
day  where  the  bullet  struck  the  wall.  God 
save  me!  I  threw  a  knife  at  one  glistening 
with  mail,  and  it  just  went  through  him  like 
he  was  a  shadow." 

"  Huh!  to  my  mind  that  it  what  he  was," 
asserted  de  Saule,  sneeringly,  and  staring 
about  him  at  the  fellows'  faces.  "  The  three 
of  you  filled  up  with  liquor,  no  doubt,  to  get 
courage  enough  to  go  at  all,  and  then  fright 
ened  each  other.  But  I  Ve  heard  enough  of 
this.  I  am  a  soldier,  and  have  seen  enough 
dead  men  to  heap  this  room  full.  It  is  no 
ghost  that  will  stop  me.  Come,  lads,  what  say 
a  half  dozen  of  you  to  earning  a  handful  of 
good  gold  pieces  by  standing  at  my  back? 
Speak  up  now!  there  is  nothing  to  fear;  we  '11 
carry  lights  with  us,  and  that  will  scare  the 
spooks  away.  How  is  it  with  you,  Guieteau?  " 

I  know  not  what  caused  me  to  move,  but  I 
straightened  up  suddenly,  and  by  some  acci 
dent  my  foot  struck  against  Gassier.  No  doubt 
[251] 


his  mind  was  half  crazed  by  the  visions  con 
jured  up  from  overhearing  the  talk  below, 
and  the  silence  and  darkness  all  about  us. 
Perchance  he  thought  the  sudden  pressure  of 
my  foot  proof  of  some  horrid  presence,  for  he 
leaped  upward,  with  a  shriek  that  rang  out 
in  the  silence  as  though  from  the  lips  of  the 
fiend  himself.  I  sought  to  grip  him,  but  was 
too  late.  He  staggered  on  the  stair  ledge, 
and  then  went  down,  his  body  whirling  over 
in  the  air,  until  it  crashed  onto  the  stones 
below. 


[252] 


CHAPTER  XIX 

FUGITIVES  IN  THE  RUINS 

A  THE  man's  body  plunged  down  through 
the  air,  his  lips  giving  utterance  to  an 
other  unearthly  shriek  of  terror,  the  horror  of 
it  seemed  to  paralyze  my  every  faculty.  But 
as  his  form  struck  the  stone  floor  beneath,  suffi 
cient  presence  of  mind  returned  to  enable  me 
to  clasp  the  shuddering  girl  in  my  arms,  and 
hold  her  safely  out  of  observation  from  below. 
Her  face  was  hidden  on  my  shoulder,  but  I 
could  see  plainly  enough,  and  the  unspeakable 
horror  of  the  scene  held  me  with  its  fascina 
tion.  Scarcely  breathing  I  stared  downward, 
every  nerve  in  my  body  throbbing  as  if  from 
physical  pain. 

Yet  I  knew  the  cause,  realized  how  the 
dreadful  accident  had  happened.  Dazed  as 
I  still  was  from  its  suddenness,  sick  at  heart 
with  horror,  there  was  no  terrorizing  mystery 
to  chill  my  heart.  Not  so  with  those  base 
cowards  below.  Already  terrorized  by  their 
[253] 


SHEA,  OF  THE  IRISH  BRIGADE 

imagination,  and  Guieteau's  weird  tale,  every 
shadow  assumed  ghostly  shape,  and  the  slight 
est  noise  caused  them  to  start,  and  look  about. 
To  their  ears  those  agonized  shrieks  were  the 
wails  of  a  lost  soul,  and  as  the  body  whirled 
down  among  them,  out  of  that  black  haunted 
void  above,  they  fled  madly,  trampling  each 
other,  cursing  and  crying  out  in  terror.  The 
battered  form  struck  the  stones  at  the  very 
feet  of  the  sentry,  who  flung  his  gun  at  it  and 
ran,  uttering  a  scream  that  was  instantly  ech 
oed,  and  re-echoed  by  his  frightened  compan 
ions.  Scarcely  had  the  first  cries  of  alarm 
died  away  before  the  great  hall  below  was 
deserted  to  the  dead  body,  with  the  exception 
of  de  Saule,  and  his  lieutenant,  who,  clinging 
to  each  other  for  courage,  had  slunk  back 
against  the  wall,  their  eyes  staring  in  horror 
up  the  black  stairs.  In  the  glare  of  the  fire 
I  could  see  their  faces,  white  with  terror,  and 
note  the  frenzied  grip  of  their  hands.  It 
seemed  to  me  they  would  never  move,  never 
dare  to  investigate.  Yet  de  Saule  was  a  hard 
headed  fellow,  with  little  superstition  to  deter 
[  254  ] 


FUGITIVES  IN  THE  RUINS 


him,  and  as  the  first  spasm  of  fright  passed, 
he  laughed  harshly,  pushing  Guieteau  aside 
roughly,  and  taking  a  step  forward. 

"  St'  Anne!  it  is  only  a  man's  body!"  he 
roared,  angry  at  his  own  terror.  "  'T  is  the 
fellow  we  sought  come  to  his  own  end." 

"Ay!  that  may  be,"  returned  the  other, 
making  no  attempt  to  move.  "  But  what 
drove  him  to  take  such  a  leap?  'Twas  the 
fiends  he  saw  in  the  dark." 

"  Well  there  are  none  of  them  here  to 
frighten  us  —  only  a  poor  devil  crushed  to 
death."  De  Saule  raised  his  voice.  "  Come 
back  here,  you  skulking  cowards !  Now,  Guie 
teau,  let 's  see  what  the  fellow  looks  like." 

He  crossed  the  floor  boldly,  although  I 
noted  a  pistol  clasped  tightly  in  his  hand, 
and  that  his  eyes  were  watching  the  stairs. 
The  giant,  half  ashamed  of  his  fear,  started  to 
follow,  but  stopped  in  the  full  glare  of  the 
fire,  and  shouted  loudly  for  his  men.  He  was 
there  still,  cursing  and  commanding,  when  de 
Saule  reached  the  motionless  body,  and  turned 
the  face  up  to  the  light.  The  skull  was 
[255] 


SHEA,  OF  THE  IRISH  BRIGADE 

crushed,  yet  in  spite  of  the  disfiguring  blood, 
the  dead  man's  features  were  plainly  recog 
nizable.  De  Saule  stared  into  the  upturned 
face,  then  took  a  quick  step  backward,  his 
gaze  on  the  black  void  above.  His  expression 
was  that  of  a  man  puzzled,  and  uncertain  in 
the  presence  of  mystery. 

" Mon  Dleul "  he  exclaimed,  in  his  first 
surprise.  "This  isn't  the  man,  Guieteau; 
this  is  n't  the  same  fellow  who  struck  me.  I 
never  saw  that  face  before.  Come  over  here, 
you  big  coward,  and  tell  me  if  you  know  who 
he  is.  Come  on!  what  in  the  name  of  all  the 
fiends  of  hell  are  you  afraid  of?  Coward! 
I  '11  try  this  pistol  on  you,  if  you  hang  back 
any  longer." 

The  big  lieutenant  came  forward  reluc 
tantly  enough,  and  managed  to  bring  his  eyes 
down  to  glance  at  the  dead  face.  Some  of  the 
scattered  men  were  by  this  time  beginning  to 
edge  back  within  the  radius  of  the  fire,  but 
kept  well  away  from  the  neighborhood  of  the 
staircase.  Guieteau's  huge  hand  opened  and 
shut  nervously,  but  de  Saule  gripped  his  arm. 
[256] 


FUGITIVES  IN  THE  RUINS 


"  Well,  who  is  he?    Do  you  know?  " 

The  giant  let  out  an  oath. 

"  Yes ;  't  is  the  officer  I  told  you  about  — 
the  one  we  picked  up  near  Lourches ;  but  how 
came  he  there?  "  and  his  eyes  turned  upward 
again.  "Hey,  you,  Manuel,  come  here!" 

A  negro  crept  cautiously  forward,  trem 
bling  in  every  limb,  yet  afraid  to  disobey. 

"  Yes,  Monsieur,  I  'se  here;  what  you  want 
o'  me?  I  do  n't  know  no  ghost." 

"  There  is  none  here  if  you  did,"  broke 
in  de  Saule  harshly.  "  We  want  to  know 
who  this  dead  man  is.  Do  you  recognize 
him?" 

The  negro  ventured  a  look,  and  flung  up 
his  hands. 

"Yes,  Monsieur,"  his  teeth  chattering  so 
the  words  were  hardly  distinguishable  by  us 
as  we  intently  listened.  "  He 's  the  man  I 
tended  to  in  the  south  wing.  He  —  he  said 
his  name  was  Gassier." 

"  When  did  you  see  him  last?  " 

"  Long  this  mornin  '  when  I  took  him  some 
thing  to  eat" 

[257] 


SHEA,  OF  THE  IRISH  BRIGADE 

"  He  was  confined  in  the  south  wing?  on 
this  floor?  You  left  him  locked  in  securely?  " 

"  I  sure  did,  Monsieur;  I'  se  awful  careful 
'bout  that.  I  members  distinctly  poundin' 
down  the  bar." 

De  Saule  looked  at  Guieteau,  and  then 
about  at  those  others  skulking  by  the  fire.  His 
jaw  was  set,  and  there  was  an  angry  gleam  in 
his  eyes. 

"  Now  see  here,  men,"  he  roared  threat 
eningly,  "  there  is  something  rotten  here.  I 
am  tired  of  this  ghost  talk;  I  Ve  had  enough 
of  it.  Ghosts  do  n't  lift  bars  out  of  sockets  in 
broad  daylight.  Somebody  set  this  man  free, 
and,  by  all  the  gods,  I  am  going  to  find  out 
who  it  was.  This  is  the  king's  business,  and 
I  am  not  going  to  be  balked  by  man,  or  devil. 
And  you  are  going  with  me,  Guieteau,  you 
and  your  men.  I  '11  kill  the  first  dastard  who 
attempts  to  get  away."  He  swept  his  leveled 
pistol  in  their  faces  menacingly.  "  Come  on 
now,  you  fellows  have  more  reason  to  fear  me 
than  anything  up  yonder.  A  half  dozen  of 
you  light  torches;  the  rest  arm  yourselves. 


FUGITIVES  IN  THE  RUINS 


Jump,  curse  you;  there  '11  be  no  more  talk! " 
He  sprang  on  the  lower  step,  and  faced  about 
savagely.  Whatever  fear  he  might  have  felt 
at  first  had  vanished  in  fierce  determination. 
This  was  the  work  of  men,  and  his  only 
thought  was  to  capture,  and  crush. 

"  Guieteau,  do  you  hear  me?  "  he  snapped. 
"  Good  God,  man,  when  did  I  ever  give  an 
order  twice!  I  '11  blow  a  hole  through  your 
thick  skull  if  you  stand  there  and  stare  at  me 
a  minute  longer.  Get  back  of  those  fellows 
and  drive  them  up  here.  There  that 's  more 
like  it.  Come  on,  you  fellows  with  torches. 
I  '11  lead,  and  you  follow.  If  one  of  them 
skulks,  Guieteau,  shoot  the  dog  down.  You 
have  more  occasion  to  be  afraid  of  me,  you 
hell  hounds  than  of  any  ghost  that  ever 
walked.  Come  on,  now!  " 

No  one  of  them  had  any  stomach  for  it, 
not  even  de  Saule  himself,  in  spite  of  his  bold 
words,  but  the  latter  had  wrought  himself 
into  a  state  of  anger  which  drove  him  for 
ward,  reckless  of  consequences.  The  others 
held  back  still,  irresolute,  lacking  a  leader,  yet 
[259] 


SHEA,  OF  THE  IRISH  BRIGADE 

finally  driven  to  advance  by  the  menacing  pis 
tol  flourished  in  their  faces  by  Guieteau,  who 
experienced  a  revival  of  courage  now  that 
he  knew  he  was  to  be  safely  in  the  rear.  That 
such  a  cowardly  crew  would  penetrate  far 
along  those  dark,  echoing  corridors  was  un 
believable.  The  slightest  mysterious  noise 
would  bring  panic,  and  send  them  in  head 
long  flight.  But  the  stairs  were  well  lighted, 
and  de  Saule,  and  his  lieutenant  would  drive 
them  up  the  broad  steps.  If  I  was  to  play 
ghost  the  better  place  for  such  an  exhibition 
would  be  farther  back,  where  the  gloom  would 
be  impenetrable,  and  the  fellows'  nerves  would 
be  on  edge. 

I  yet  held  tightly  to  the  lady,  never  for  a 
moment  indifferent  to  her  presence;  now  I 
turned  and  glanced  into  her  face,  our  eyes 
meeting. 

"  We  must  keep  out  of  the  coming  light,"  I 
said  swiftly.  "  There  is  no  time  to  lose;  they 
will  mount  this  far  anyway." 

I  helped  her  to  her  feet,  both  of  us  still 
watchful  of  the  movements  below. 
[260] 


FUGITIVES  IN  THE  RUINS 


"  Where  shall  we  go,  Monsieur? "  she 
asked,  a  slight  tremor  in  her  low  voice.  "  Do 
you  think  they  will  follow  us?  " 

"  Not  far  in  the  dark,"  I  answered  reas 
suringly.  "  They  are  ready  to  run  at  the  first 
alarm.  I  have  a  scheme  which  will  frighten 
the  hearts  out  of  them.  You  are  not  afraid 
of  shadows?  " 

She  glanced  backward  into  the  dense  gloom 
of  the  passageways. 

"  Yes,"  she  confessed.  "  I  am  afraid,  but 
not  so  much  as  of  those  men  below.  It  is  not 
that  I  am  superstitious,  Monsieur,  but  this 
place  is  so  grim  and  desolate,  that  —  that  I 
cannot  help  dreading  the  dark,  and  —  and 
they  told  such  awful  tales  —  " 

"Ay!  'twas  enough  to  frighten  a  brave 
man.  'T  is  no  task  I  like  overly  well,  but  there 
is  no  choice.  Ah !  they  are  coming  —  take  my 
hand." 

"  Where  do  we  go?  which  way?  " 

"  To  the  left,  through  the  big  hall.  We  can 
reach  the  tower  roof  by  a  narrow  stairway 
one  man  could  hold  against  an  army,  if  it  come 
[261] 


SHEA,  OF  THE  IRISH  BRIGADE 

to  blows.  Besides  I  know  the  passage,  and  a 
secret  door  which  may  deceive  them." 

We  ran  lightly  through  the  arch,  plunging 
at  once  into  impenetrable  darkness.  With 
one  hand  pressed  against  the  rough  stones,  the 
other  clasping  her's,  I  led  the  way.  Once  or 
twice  we  stumbled  over  debris,  and  we  could 
hear  de  Saule's  voice  in  our  rear  cursing 
Guieteau  for  not  driving  the  men  faster.  It 
was  not  until  I  discovered  the  entrance  to  the 
second  apartment  that  either  of  us  spoke. 
Then  her  voice  at  my  ear  was  but  a  whisper. 

"  Is  not  this  the  direction  in  which  the  other 
man  fled?" 

"It  must  be;  for  there  are  only  the  two 
passages,  and  he  did  not  follow  Gassier." 

"  Then  we  may  meet  him?  " 

"  T  is  likely  enough." 

Her  hand  clasp  tightened. 

"  But  you  will  not  fight,  Monsieur,"  she 
implored  earnestly.  "  He  may  be  my  brother." 

"  Not  if  I  can  make  him  understand,"  I 
replied.  "  Whoever  he  is  we  should  be  al 
lies  in  this  affair.  But  if  we  meet  it  will  be 
[262] 


FUGITIVES  IN  THE  RUINS 


in  the  dark,  and  he  may  spring  forth  desper 
ately,  fighting  for  his  life.  I  would  then  need 
defend  myself.  'T  would  be  your  part  to  let 
him  know  the  truth." 

We  were  halted  in  the  angle  of  the  wall, 
for  I  hesitated  to  go  on,  my  memory  of  the 
way  before  us  vague  and  uncertain.  De  Saule, 
and  his  gang,  had  attained  the  head  of  the 
staircase,  and  the  glow  of  the  torches  cast  a 
faint  reflection  across  the  great  room  we  had 
just  left.  I  could  perceive  the  dimness  of  the 
opposite  wall,  but  the  high  roof  was  hidden  in 
darkness. 

The  voices  of  our  pursuers  were  echoing 
in  noisy  cadence,  each  man  apparently  taking 
a  part  in  the  chorus  of  protest.  The  duke 
alone  kept  grimly  to  his  purpose,  his  harsh 
tone  vibrating  above  the  others,  and  finally 
hushing  the  tumult.  His  fierce  anger  at  the 
cowardice  of  his  following  gave  him  a  cour 
age  foreign  to  his  real  nature,  and  all  that  was 
brutal  in  him  rose  to  the  surface. 

"  Well,  by  the  gods,  you  will!  "  he  shouted. 
"Take  the  position  I  say.  Here,  you  torch 
[263] 


SHEA,  OF  THE  IRISH  BRIGADE 

bearers,  come  forward  here  —  yes  you  go  in 
front  of  me,  and  I  '11  kill  the  first  dog  who 
tries  to  run.  I  '11  give  you  something  to  be 
afraid  of,  you  cowardly  hounds !  Now,  Guie- 
teau,  bring  up  the  others.  What  are  you  two 
hanging  back  for?  I  '11  try  the  flat  of  my 
sword  on  you,  Francois,  if  ever  I  see  you 
skulking  again.  Ah,  you  would,  hey  Jules! 
Perhaps  that  will  teach  you  to  remain  where 
I  tell  you."  There  was  the  sound  of  a  blow, 
and  a  falling  body.  "  Get  up,  or  I  '11  run  the 
sword  point  through  you!  Now  stand  there. 
I  am  captain  here  tonight.  To  the  left,  you 
men  —  now  forward !  " 

The  flicker  of  torches  gave  warning  of  their 
advance,  although  it  was  equally  evident  the 
bearers  were  fairly  creeping  along,  driven  by 
de  Saule,  and  the  far  less  eager  Guieteau.  I 
could  still  hear  the  voice  of  the  latter  threat 
ening  the  laggards,  his  abusive  tongue  cutting 
like  the  lash  of  a  whip.  The  increasing  light 
revealed  Mademoiselle's  face,  and  afforded  me 
a  dim  view  of  the  apartment  in  which  we 
were.  Her  eyes  implored  me. 
[264] 


FUGITIVES  IN  THE  RUINS 


"Please,  Monsieur,  please;  do  not  delay 
longer! " 

"No  —  come!  I  needed  this  light  to  make 
sure.  I  have  only  been  this  way  once  before, 
but  we  shall  be  safe  now  in  a  moment.  There 
are  two  stairs:  one  leading  up,  the  other  down 
—  but  I  have  no  knowledge  where  the  latter 
ends.  We  will  try  the  roof." 

Alarmed  as  the  girl  undoubtedly  was  at  the 
near  approach  of  our  pursuers,  I  think  she 
dreaded  even  more  the  possibility  of  encount 
ering  the  other  fugitive  in  the  darkness.  There 
was  a  mystery  about  him  that  could  not  be 
ignored  —  who  he  was,  what  desperation  gave 
him  such  recklessness,  and  from  what  black 
corner  he  might  leap  out  upon  us  before  we 
were  aware.  The  full  measure  of  the  danger 
behind  us  we  knew,  but  I  retained  faith  that 
we  would  yet  outwit  de  Saule,  and  his  mon 
grel  following.  Ay!  he  was  only  laughable, 
seeking  us  with  lighted  torches,  which  gave 
full  knowledge  of  where  he  was,  and  thus  en 
abling  us  to  keep  well  out  of  sight.  The  very 
vehemence  with  which  he  was  compelled  to 
[265] 


SHEA,  OF  THE  IRISH  BRIGADE 

curse  his  rabble  forward  was  warning  enough, 
besides  being  proof  that  the  slightest  alarm 
would  send  them  skurrying  backward,  leav 
ing  him  alone.  I  had  a  wild  thought  to  bring 
this  end  about,  and  fight  the  issue  out  face  to 
face.  Yet  I  hesitated,  for  if  some  accident 
should  happen,  and  his  sword  should  win,  the 
position  of  the  lady  would  be  too  terrible  to 
contemplate.  I  could  not  assume  the  risk  — 
there  was  nothing  for  it  but  to  hide,  and  wait 
the  turn  of  the  wheel.  I  put  away  the  dream 
of  so  insane  a  venture.  I  felt  her  pressing 
against  me,  her  pleading  eyes  on  my  face,  and 
thought  she  sensed  the  temptation  which  for 
the  instant  assailed  me. 

"  Please,  Monsieur! " 

"  I  am  a  soldier  —  it  is  easier  to  fight." 

"  I  know  —  I  know !  but  remember  me, 
Monsieur.  If  you  should  fall,  I  would  be  all 
alone.  I  am  afraid." 

"  Afraid !  you ?   Why  you  have  proven  your 
courage;  'tis  not  the  first  time  swords  have 
been  drawn  for  your  sake,  if  all  I  hear  be 
true.    You  are  Camille  d'Enville." 
[266] 


FUGITIVES  IN  THE  RUINS 


"  No,  no,  Monsieur.  I  am  only  a  fright 
ened  girl.  See  how  I  cling  to  you,  trust  you. 
I  cannot  let  you  go.  Promise  you  will  not 
leave  me." 

"  'Tis  an  easy  pledge.  Quick  then;  I  can 
see  the  passage  now,  and  we  have  ample  time." 

We  crossed  the  room  in  swift  silence,  the 
red  glare  of  the  slowly  advancing  torches 
lighting  the  stone  walls.  The  secret  door 
stood  slightly  ajar  just  as  I  had  left  it.  If  the 
stranger  had  come  this  way  he  must  have 
missed  the  narrow  opening  in  the  wall  and 
found  concealment  elsewhere.  There  was  no 
time  to  speculate  as  to  his  whereabouts,  how 
ever —  the  torch-bearers  were  already  at  the 
wide  entrance.  I  drew  her  within  the  open 
ing,  and  closed  behind  us  the  stone  door. 


[267] 


CHAPTER  XX 

THE  VISION  ON  THE  ROOF 

WE  WERE  instantly  plunged  in  dark 
ness  and  profound  silence,  the  heavy 
stone  fitting  so  closely  into  place  that  not  so 
much  as  a  ray  of  light  penetrated  the  crevices. 
While  a  century,  or  more,  may  have  elapsed 
since  that  secret  door  had  been  swung  by  hu 
man  hand  its  mechanism  remained  perfect, 
and  responded  to  my  lightest  touch.  Except 
for  a  faint  click,  as  the  lock  caught,  there  was 
no  noise,  not  even  the  creak  of  a  hinge,  and 
the  babel  of  voices  with  which  our  pursuers 
sought  to  bolster  up  their  courage  ceased  as 
by  magic. 

We  remained  there  a  few  moments,  breath 
ing  heavily,  not  from  exertion  but  suspense, 
my  arm  still  supporting  her  as  she  rested 
against  me  in  unreserved  confidence.  The 
narrowness  of  the  stairs  afforded  us  no 
room,  while  the  intense  darkness  made  the 
place  seem  like  a  grave.  The  sudden  thought 
[268] 


THE  VISION  ON  THE  ROOF 


occurred  to  me  that  it  might  indeed  prove  to 
be  one,  for  although  I  ran  my  fingers  here  and 
there  along  the  smooth  face  of  the  stone,  I 
could  find  nothing  resembling  an  inner  spring 
by  which  the  door  might  be  reopened,  and  if 
the  scuttle  above  —  of  stone  also  —  should  be 
found  closed  we  were  sealed  there  for  all  eter 
nity.  It  was  scarce  likely  those  fellows  with 
out  either  knew,  or  would  discover,  the  hidden 
passage,  nor  could  they  hear  through  those 
thick  walls  our  cries  for  release.  Even  if  we 
attained  the  roof  safely  it  might  be  we  would 
be  marooned  there,  finding  no  other  means  of 
descent.  However  upward  lay  our  only  per 
ceptible  chance  for  rescue,  and  the  dismal 
foreboding  of  possible  disaster  could  not  help 
us  now. 

We  must  press  on,  and  meet  whatever  fate 
lurked  in  the  darkness  above.  I  could  hear 
the  stifled  sobbing  of  my  companion,  and  real 
ized  how  much  she  needed  all  the  reserve 
strength  of  my  courage  to  enable  her  to  bear 
what  was  before  us.  She  was  no  longer  the 
court  beauty,  conscious  of  her  own  power  of 
[269] 


SHEA,  OF  THE  IRISH  BRIGADE 

position,  and  reigning  like  a  queen,  but  a 
frightened  girl,  clinging  to  me  in  terror.  I 
would  not  even  let  the  thought  come  to  her 
that  there  was  other  peril  fronting  us. 

"  Come,"  I  said,  as  heartily  as  possible, 
"  we  are  free  from  those  rascals  now.  Do  not 
be  afraid,  Mademoiselle;  there  is  nothing  here 
which  can  hurt  you." 

"  Can  they  not  find  the  way,  and  follow  us? 
Was  that  a  secret  door?  " 

"  Yes,  a  solid  stone  fitted  into  the  wall,  yet 
so  fastened  as  to  swing  on  hinges.  I  never 
saw  it  closed,  but 't  was  the  work  of  an  artist 
—  see,  not  a  ray  of  light  reaches  us,  or  the 

F       •-'.'• 

slightest  sound.     Doubtless  many  a  lord  and 
lady  —  ay!  even  a  king  —  have  found  safe 
refuge  here  in  years  gone  by." 
"  To  what  does  the  passage  lead?  " 
"  To  a  tower  opposite  the  one  in  which  you 
were  confined.     'T  is  not  unlike  in  appear 
ance,  only  it  is  not  entirely  walled  up,  and 
an  opening  leads  to  the  roof.    I  had  no  time 
to  explore,  for  it  was  there  I  met  the  dwarf 
Gospele,  and  took  him  prisoner.    Yet  surely 
[270] 


THE  VISION  ON  THE  ROOF 


there  must  be  some  other  means  of  descend 
ing." 

"  And  you  believe  those  men  will  not  know 
of  this  passage?  will  discover  no  way  in  which 
to  open  the  door,  and  follow  us?" 

"  Not  they.  I  doubt  if  de  Saule  has  ever 
before  been  here,  and  the  others,  even  if  they 
suspect,  will  say  nothing.  All  those  cowards 
want  is  some  excuse  to  go  back.  If  Gospele 
was  among  them  it  would  be  different:  he 
would  know,  and  his  brain  has  the  devil's  own 
cunning.  But  there  is  nothing  to  fear  now 
from  that  mob.  Shall  we  go  on?  " 

I  felt  the  pressure  of  her  hand. 

"  Yes,  Monsieur." 

"  I  cannot  thank  you  enough  for  your  trust 
in  me,"  I  whispered  fervently,  inspired  to 
boldness  by  the  firm  touch  of  her  fingers. 

"Why  should  I  not  trust  you?"  she  ques 
tioned.  "  You  have  always  been  my  friend." 

"  Only  such  a  little  while,  and  I  have  done 
so  little  —  no  more  than  any  real  man  would 
do.  Then  you  cannot  forget  that  I  may  be 
the  slayer  of  your  brother." 


SHEA,  OF  THE  IRISH  BRIGADE 

"  Yet  I  have  forgotten,  or  rather  I  do  not 
believe.  Some  instinct  tells  me  my  brother 
lives.  Gospele  knew  him  too  well  to  be  mis 
taken,  or  misled  by  any  chance  resemblance. 
He  told  you  he  actually  talked  with  the  man, 
and  even  a  word  would  reveal  the  deception 
to  the  quick  wit  of  the  dwarf.  Monsieur, 
the  man  hiding  here  is  Charles  d'Enville,  and 
the  foul  plot  in  which  I  was  entangled  in 
volved  him  also." 

"How?    What  need?" 

"  I  have  thought  it  out  like  this:  de  Saule 
said  enough  to  implant  the  suspicion  in  my 
mind.  Both  he,  and  the  king,  know  me  well 
enough  to  be  assured  that  I  would  not  yield 
easily  to  any  threat,  or  personal  danger.  They 
were  afraid  nothing  would  move  me,  so  they 
conceived  the  idea  of  capturing  Charles  also. 
Then  his  life  would  be  the  stake,  and  I  would 
be  driven  to  consent  to  save  him." 

"  The  thing  sounds  reasonable.  'T  is  your 
thought  that  the  king  —  " 

"  Ordered  him  out  on  some  special  mission 
where  capture  was  certain.  It  was  all  prear- 
[272] 


THE  VISION  ON  THE  ROOF 


ranged.  No  doubt  he  had  the  orders  with 
him  when  you  two  fought.  Your  sword 
thrust  was  not  fatal,  perhaps  not  even  seri 
ous,  and  the  moment  he  was  able  he  rode 
forth  on  the  king's  service." 

"  It  may  be,"  I  acknowledged  doubtfully. 
"  The  scheme  would  be  one  de  Saule  would 
be  like  to  concoct,  but  Louis  —  " 

"  You  do  not  know  Louis,  Monsieur,"  she 
interrupted  quickly.  "  'T  is  not  in  camp  or 
field  you  learn  the  traits  of  a  king.  It  is  at 
the  court,  and  in  Paris,  he  reveals  himself. 
To  my  mind  it  was  rather  his  scheme  than 
de  Saule's.  He  was  very  angry  with  me,  and 
would  plan  revenge." 

"  And  if  this  should  not  be  true?  "  I  asked 
earnestly.  "  If  the  man  here  should  not  prove 
to  be  your  brother?  " 

"  That  shall  make  no  difference,  Monsieur, 
between  us,"  she  answered  frankly.  "  Not 
now.  I  have  trust  in  you." 

"Always?" 

"  Yes,  always.  Even  when  I  first  saw  you 
in  the  dim  light  of  the  garret,  before  I  even 
[273] 


SHEA,  OF  THE  IRISH  BRIGADE 

knew  you  to  be  a  soldier  of  France,  I  believed 
you  a  true  man.  We  learn  to  judge  men  in 
the  life  I  have  led  —  a  life  where  everyone 
wears  a  mask.  I  can  tell  the  false  from  the 
true.  I  have  faith  in  you,  Monsieur;  I  will 
have  always." 

I  did  not  speak,  for  I  could  not  utter  the 
words  trembling  on  my  lips.  Suddenly  there 
yawned  between  us  the  chasm  of  rank  and 
wealth.  She  was  a  frightened,  trustful  girl 
now,  relying  on  me  for  help,  confiding  in  me, 
and  forgetful  of  all  else  in  this  moment  of 
her  need. 

Yet  I  must  not  forget  that  she  was  of  the 
old  nobility  of  France,  rich,  and  of  a  proud 
family,  a  beauty  of  the  most  ceremonial  court 
of  Europe,  a  toast  of  the  well  born  and  pow 
erful.  Tomorrow  she  might  go  back  to  her 
own,  with  only  a  laugh  at  the  remembrance 
of  our  intimacy.  'Twas  but  an  accident 
which  had  thrown  us  together,  and  her  kindly 
words,  after  all,  might  signify  no  more  than 
natural  gratitude.  I  was  to  her  only  a  friend 
in  time  of  need.  Just  as  swiftly  I  would  slip 
[274] 


THE  VISION  ON  THE  ROOF 


out  of  her  life.  And  why  not?  What  was  I 
to  expect  anything  else? 

Why  should  I  presume  that  this  proud  lady 
of  the  court  would  ever  really  care  for  me? 
She  could  laugh  at  a  king's  wish,  and  scorn 
his  favorites,  while  I  —  with  clinched  teeth  I 
remembered  what  I  was.  A  volunteer  lieu 
tenant  of  the  Irish  brigade,  an  exile  in  the 
army  of  a  strange  nation,  a  mere  adventurer 
fighting  under  an  alien  flag,  selling  my  sword 
for  gold.  True  I  was  the  cadet  of  a  great 
house,  the  blood  in  my  veins  not  to  be  despised 
by  any  man,  but  with  ruined  fortune,  and  im 
poverished  acres  only  as  inheritance.  In 
sooth,  'twas  absurd,  and  almost  unconsciously 
I  laughed  aloud. 

"What  is  it,  Monsieur?  that  you  should 
laugh?" 

"  Only  at  a  stray  thought,"  I  explained,  but 
unable  to  keep  the  bitterness  from  my  voice. 
"  Nothing  to  interest  you." 

"  Oh !  but  it  would  I  am  sure.  If  it  would 
make  you  laugh  at  such  a  time,  perhaps  it 
might  hearten  me.  What  was  it?  " 

[  275  1 


SHEA.  OF  THE  IRISH  BRIGADE 

"  I  just  thought  of  us  here  so  close  together 
for  a  short  time,"  I  said  reluctantly,  "  and 
then  remembered  suddenly  how  wide  apart 
we  really  were." 

"  Are  we,  Monsieur?  " 

"  I  cannot  conceive  how  the  chasm  could 
be  broader,  Mademoiselle.  You  are  Camille 
d'Enville,  and  I  Arthur  Shea.  You  may  not 
perceive  the  vast  difference,  but,  believe  me, 
I  do.  'T  is  a  wide  space  which  separates  the 
daughter  of  the  Marquis  d'Enville  from  a 
sub-officer  of  the  Royal  Irlandais." 

"  You  told  me  once  you  were  of  the  house 
of  Berwick,"  she  protested  quickly.  "  And 
my  Lord  Clare  has  in  my  presence  called  it  a 
princely  line." 

I  smiled  in  the  darkness,  yet  with  bitterness 
at  my  heart. 

"  True  enough,  but  our  glory  is  all  in  the 
past  There  is  nothing  left  but  memory.  To 
day  only  a  few  impoverished  acres,  and  a 
ruined  castle  remain  for  all  the  grandeur  that 
was.  The  sons  of  Berwick  have  nothing  left 
but  their  honor,  and  their  swords.  I  claim 
[276] 


THE  VISION  ON  THE  ROOF 


only,  Mademoiselle,  the  name  of  a  soldier  of 
France;  my  total  income  the  stipend  of  the 
king." 

Her  hand  closed  over  mine  warmly. 

"  Some  of  the  truest  men  I  know,  Mon 
sieur,"  she  said  softly,  "  have  bravely  met  the 
same  misfortune.  It  is  the  accident  of  birth, 
and  can  in  no  way  change  my  thought  of  you. 
Tomorrow  the  Marquis  d'Enville  might  be 
stripped  of  all  his  honors  and  wealth  by  some 
turn  of  the  wheel,  yet  I  would  be  Camille 
d'Enville  still.  And  you  are  Arthur  Shea, 
of  the  house  of  Berwick,  although  you  wear 
a  sub-lieutenant's  uniform.  It  is  the  man  I 


see." 


"You  speak  bravely;  the  glamour  of  the 
court  has  not  spoiled  you." 

"  Not  if  you  mean  a  failure  to  see  beneath 
the  clothes.  I  have  witnessed  the  meanness  of 
kings,  Monsieur,  and  the  cruelty  of  a  courtier's 
smile.  And  I  have  learned  to  recognize  men 
when  I  meet  them.  It  is  no  longer  a  question 
do  I  trust  you,  but  do  you  trust  me.  I  would 
always  be  your  friend,  Monsieur." 
[277] 


SHEA,  OF  THE  IRISH  BRIGADE 

"  And  I  yours,"  I  answered  eagerly.  "  Yet 
I  felt  I  must  tell  you  who  it  was  you  con 
sorted  with.  I  have  the  pride  of  my  race, 
Mademoiselle." 

"  And  I  of  mine,"  she  replied  firmly.  "  But 
it  has  naught  to  do  with  clothes  or  wealth. 
What  was  that  noise  above?  " 

"  I  heard  none;  but  we  should  be  moving 
upward.  The  delay  here  only  increases  our 
peril.  Retain  your  clasp  of  my  hand  —  the 
stairs  are  narrow,  and  curve." 

We  advanced  slowly,  for  although  I  deemed 
the  passage  clear,  yet  the  darkness  was  in 
tense,  and  a  certain  fear  of  encountering  the 
unknown  rendered  me  cautious.  Even  at  the 
last  turn  there  was  no  guidance  of  light  from 
above,  but  my  groping  hand  discovered  the 
guarding  stone  thrust  back  in  its  grooves. 
Whispering  to  her  to  wait,  I  crept  through 
the  opening,  and  drew  my  body  to  the  floor  of 
the  tower.  The  solid  walls  surrounding  me, 
with  only  the  one  narrow  doorway  leading  to 
the  roof,  and  that  partially  obscured  by  vines, 
left  the  place  scarcely  less  dark  than  the 
[278] 


THE  VISION  ON  THE  ROOF 


gloomy  stairs  below.  Straining  my  eyes,  and 
listening  intently,  I  could  perceive  no  object, 
or  hear  sound,  more  alarming  than  the  wind 
rattling  the  leaves.  Convinced  that  the  tower, 
at  least,  was  unoccupied,  I  reached  back,  and 
assisted  her  up  beside  me.  For  a  moment  of 
indecision  we  rested  there,  holding  our 
breath,  and  listening  for  any  warning  noise. 
Her  form  pressed  closely  against  me,  and  the 
sensation  of  that  near  contact  made  me  oblivi 
ous  to  all  else.  At  last  she  questioned. 

"  Is  there  a  door,  Monsieur?  I  can  see 
nothing." 

"  Yes,  it  is  over  there.  I  can  see  the  glim 
mer  of  a  star  through  the  opening  from  where 
I  lie.  I  do  not  believe  there  is  anything  to 
fear,  and  I  know  the  way." 

"  But  where  could  the  other  man  have 
gone?"  she  urged,  her  mind  still  hopeful  of 
finding  him  to  be  her  brother.  "  Was  there 
some  other  passage?  " 

"  I  found  none,"  I  confessed,  "  when  I  came 
this  way  before,  but  there  must  be  one.  I  did 
not  search  with  care,  for  I  was  following 


SHEA,  OF  THE  IRISH  BRIGADE 

Gospele,  but  I  am  certain  the  man  is  not  here. 
He  must  be  in  hiding  somewhere  below.  Arc 
you  ready?  Shall  we  explore  the  roof?  " 

The  pressure  of  her  hand  answered  me,  and 
I  arose  to  my  feet,  gripping  the  hilt  of  my 
sword.  I  felt  not  the  slightest  anticipation  of 
encountering  any  antagonist,  yet  my  instincts 
were  those  of  a  soldier,  guarding  against  sur 
prise.  I  stepped  ahead,  feeling  the  clasp  of 
her  hand  on  my  sleeve,  and  stood  erect  in  the 
opening,  holding  aside  the  vines  so  as  to  see 
more  clearly.  Dark  as  the  night  was  a  dim 
gleam  of  far  off  stars,  peering  through  rifts 
of  cloud,  gave  faint  illumination.  It  was  a 
ghostly,  spectral  light,  concealing  more  than 
it  revealed,  and  rendering  grotesque  the  most 
familiar  objects.  Someway  it  was  more 
frightful  than  the  darkness  through  which  we 
had  been  groping,  and  the  startled  girl 
clutched  me  in  terror,  staring  about  at  the  odd 
shadows.  I  had  a  glimpse  of  her  face,  and 
its  expression  of  despair  and  appeal  served  to 
steady  my  own  nerves. 

"  'T  is  nothing  but  the  flicker  of  the  stars, 
[280] 


THE  VISION  ON  THE  ROOF 


Mademoiselle,"  I  whispered  quietly.  "  We 
are  alone  —  see,  nothing  moves." 

"Oh,  but  it  does  move!"  she  sobbed. 
"  Look  over  yonder!  Mon  Dieu!  can  you  not 
see!  It  —  comes  here  I" 

I  saw  the  thing  now,  my  gaze  following 
her  pointed  finger,  and  my  heart  seemed  to 
stop  its  beating.  Saint  Christopher!  What 
was  it!  For  the  instant  I  could  not  tell,  so 
strange,  so  bizarre  was  the  figure;  then  a  star 
gleam  caught  it  in  a  spectral  ray  —  it  stood 
upright,  encased  in  ancient  armor! 


[281] 


CHAPTER  XXI 

WE  LAY  THE  GHOST 

NEVER  have  I  known  a  Celt  wholly  free 
from  faith  in  the  supernatural.  It  is 
the  inheritance  of  our  race,  and,  although  I 
might  laugh  at  the  experience  of  others,  yet, 
for  the  instant,  peering  through  the  dim  spec 
tral  light  which  barely  rendered  that  roof 
scene  visible,  I  never  doubted  but  what  that 
ghostly  moving  figure  was  a  visitant  from  be 
yond  the  grave.  What  else  could  it  be,  save 
some  returning  spirit  of  the  ancient  past, 
guarding  these  ruined  battlements?  There 
still  rang  in  my  ears  memory  of  those  words 
of  fear  uttered  by  frightened  men  in  the  hall 
below  —  men  who  claimed  to  have  seen  with 
their  own  eyes  such  ghostly  guardians,  and 
who  had  fled  before  them  in  terror.  I  had 
believed  then  they  were  but  superstitious  cow 
ards,  victims  of  imagination.  Yet  I  had  not 
forgotten  the  drear  tale  of  Guieteau,  nor  the 
verification  of  Francois,  and  Jules.  It  had 
[282] 


WE  LAY  THE  GHOST 


haunted  me  as  I  burrowed  in  the  dark  of  those 
gloomy  corridors,  and  was  never  absent  from 
memory,  as  I  gazed  back  at  those  approaching 
torches,  and  read  the  uncontrollable  fear 
marking  the  faces  of  their  bearers.  It  was 
ghosts,  not  men,  they  shrank  from,  and,  in 
spite  of  every  effort,  the  same  dread  terror  of 
the  unknown  chilled  my  blood.  And  now  I 
faced  the  thing!  This  was  no  dream,  no  mere 
shadow,  but  a  horrible  reality.  The  stars 
gleamed  on  a  suit  of  mail,  on  closed  helmet,  on 
the  blade  of  a  great  two-handed  sword.  Ay! 
And  the  thing  moved  toward  me  in  silent, 
menacing  grimness.  It  was  there!  —  there! 
and  drawing  nearer!  I  could  rub  my  eyes, 
could  shade  them  with  my  arm,  but  the  awful 
figure  was  still  there!  Nothing  would  blot 
it  out,  obliterate  its  horror,  or  convince  me  of 
its  unreality.  The  ghastly  apparition  faced 
me,  advanced,  seemed  to  challenge  me  to  mor 
tal  combat. 

Men  have  called  me  brave,  but  I  had  no 
courage  then.     By  the  saints,  I  was  afraid, 
beads  of  cold  perspiration  on  my  face,  my 
[283] 


SHEA,  OF  THE  IRISH  BRIGADE 

very  breath  stopped,  my  limbs  shaking  as  with 
palsy.  The  good  God  knows  what  held  me 
to  my  place;  perchance  I  was  rooted  there 
by  fear,  paralyzed  by  terror.  Yet  it  could  not 
be  that  alone,  for  I  retained  the  strength  to 
act,  the  conception  of  duty.  Mademoiselle 
sank  to  the  roof,  giving  utterance  to  one  sharp 
cry,  and  hiding  her  face  in  her  hands.  Scarce 
knowing  what  I  did,  or  why,  I  took  a  step 
forward,  my  sword  drawn,  and  stood  between 
them,  fronting — I  knew  not  what! 

And  the  thing — real  or  unreal,  spirit  of 
the  dead,  or  vision  of  the  living  —  came 
straight  toward  me.  I  thought  I  could  see  the 
spots  of  rust  on  the  steel  breastplate,  the 
gleam  of  eyes  through  the  bars  of  the  visor. 
Yet  there  was  no  sound  to  break  the  spell  — 
no  voice  to  challenge  me:  no  heavy  foot 
crunched  on  the  stone  of  the  roof.  The  figure 
moved,  but  did  not  appear  to  walk,  seeming 
rather  to  glide  forward  effortless,  a  mere  spec 
tral  shadow.  I  even  imagined  I  could  per 
ceive  a  star  gleam  through  the  very  body  of  it, 
as  if  the  whole  figure  was  but  floating  vapor. 
[284] 


WE  LAY  THE  GHOST 


Only  that  huge,  two-handed  sword  moved, 
and  was  held  aloft  by  hands  grasping  the  hilt. 
I  think  the  certainty  of  this  was  all  that  kept 
me  sane;  alone  served  to  convince  me  that  I 
fronted  a  masquerade  —  that  this  was  no  spirit 
from  another  world,  but  a  human  being  that 
confronted  me. 

As  the  suspicion  flashed  through  my  brain, 
manhood  reasserted  itself.  I  stood  erect,  alert 
and  ready,  my  blade  thrust  upward  to  ward  a 
blow.  It  was  instinct,  training,  discipline, 
which  put  me  instantly  on  defense.  I  was 
scarcely  conscious  of  my  own  actions,  yet  my 
eyes  sought  the  opening  in  the  visor,  and  my 
sword  leaped  to  the  guard.  The  great  blade 
was  poised  to  strike;  the  hands  that  held  it 
now  so  close  I  was  sure  they  were  of  flesh  and 
blood.  Anger  took  the  place  of  fear  in  my 
heart,  and  I  took  a  step  forward,  driving  my 
point  at  what  I  took  to  be  a  crevice  in  the 
armor.  I  must  have  missed,  for  the  blade 
struck  solid,  bending  to  the  force  of  the  blow, 
the  point  flying  up,  and  slashing  the  exposed 
wrist.  The  huge  broadsword  fell  with  a  clang 
[285] 


SHEA,  OF  THE  IRISH  BRIGADE 

at  my  feet,  and  the  armor  clad  figure  staggered 
back.  But  I  knew  now  I  faced  a  man  —  knew 
it  by  the  resistance  of  that  steel  breastplate, 
and  by  the  smothered  French  oath  which 
burst  from  his  lips.  I  flung  myself  at  him, 
the  weight  of  my  body  hurling  the  fellow 
back,  but  my  hands  slipped  from  the  smooth 
armor,  finding  no  finger  grip.  We  went  down 
together,  I  on  top.  He  lay  motionless,  his 
arms  outstretched,  the  armor  encasing  him 
black  and  shapeless.  Even  with  my  ear  at 
the  visor  of  his  helmet  I  could  distinguish  no 
pulsing  of  breath.  Yet  surely  the  fellow  could 
not  be  dead.  The  blow  dealt  had  not  pene 
trated  the  mail,  nor  been  of  sufficient  weight 
to  do  much  injury.  His  unconsciousness  must 
arise  from  the  violence  of  his  fall,  and  heavy 
pressure  of  the  armor. 

Confident  that  he  was  helpless  to  do  farther 
harm  I  arose  to  my  knees,  and  glanced  about 
to  distinguish  Mademoiselle.  She  was  within 
the  darker  shadow  of  the  tower,  scarcely  dis 
cernible,  but  at  my  movement  her  voice 
spoke. 

[286] 


WE  LAY  THE  GHOST 


"  Is  it  you,  Monsieur?    You  are  not  hurt?  " 

"  By  not  so  much  as  a  scratch,"  I  answered, 
now  entirely  myself  again.  "  The  man  was  so 
burdened  he  could  not  fight." 

"A  man!    That  was  a  man?  " 

"  So  I  make  it,  for  he  cried  out  lustily 
enough,  and  in  rare  French,  when  my  blade 
rasped  him.  But  the  ears  alone  bear  witness 
thus  far,  as  the  eyes  only  reveal  the  steel  case 
ments.  He  seems  smothered,  and  I  possess 
small  knowledge  how  he  is  fastened  together. 
Can  you  come  here,  Mademoiselle?" 

She  came  forward  quickly  enough,  but  once 
beside  me  hesitated,  staring  reluctantly  down 
through  the  darkness  at  the  motionless  black 
object  at  her  feet. 

"You  think  him  dead?" 

"  No,  but  likely  to  be,  unless  we  loosen  this 
helmet,  and  give  him  air.  He  must  have 
struck  heavily  as  he  fell,  and  is  stunned.  This 
is  the  clasp  here,  is  it  not?  this  leather  thing  I 
Faith,  't  is  as  hard  as  iron." 

Her  hands  helped  me,  and  the  prisoner 
stirred,  and  gave  utterance  to  a  groan,  as  we 
[287] 


SHEA,  OF  THE  IRISH  BRIGADE 

tugged  at  the  rusted  buckle.  It  yielded  slowly 
to  our  combined  efforts,  but  even  then  it  was 
a  task  to  press  back  the  face  of  the  helmet. 
The  man  drew  in  a  long  breath,  yet  still  lay 
motionless,  the  faint  light  not  sufficient  to  re 
veal  his  features.  The  girl  clung  to  my  arm 
in  uncertainty. 

"Who  is  he?    Can  you  see?  " 

"  Only  a  dim  outline,  but  I  have  no  doubt 
he  will  prove  to  be  the  fugitive.  None  of  La 
Forte's  gang  would  venture  here  alone  at  this 
hour.  To  my  mind,  now  that  I  have  my  senses 
again,  the  whole  thing  is  natural  enough. 
The  man  knew  the  superstitious  fright  of 
those  fellows  below,  and  planned  to  play 
ghost  to  win  a  way  out.  Not  so  bad  a  scheme 
either.  Saint  Denis!  but  he  had  my  blood 
turned  to  ice.  Not  until  my  sword  struck 
did  I  believe  it  to  be  a  man  who  fronted  me." 

She  drew  in  her  breath  quickly,  hiding  her 
face  on  my  sleeve,  and  I  drew  her  more  closely 
to  me,  the  very  recurring  memory  of  that  mo 
ment  of  horror  causing  us  to  forget  all  else. 

"I  —  I  was  never  so  frightened  before," 
[28S] 


WE  LAY  THE  GHOST 


she  confessed  brokenly.  "I  —  I  could  not 
even  stand,  but  —  but  you  —  " 

"  1 1  Do  not  make  any  hero  of  me,  Ma 
demoiselle,  in  this  affair,"  I  confessed  lightly. 
"  Faith  1  I  lacked  strength  to  run,  that  was 
all.  A  child  could  have  overcome  me  with 
a  feather.  'T  was  only  that  the  fellow  could 
not  fight  in  his  armor  that  gave  me  victory. 
He  was  worse  off  than  I." 

"  But  not  so  frightened." 

"  No,  he  had  that  advantage,  although  he 
probably  had  no  thought  of  coming  to  blows 
when  he  donned  that  suit  of  mail.  He  must 
have  found  it  somewhere  in  his  flight,  and 
managed  to  get  into  it,  believing  the  fright  of 
his  appearance  would  scatter  all  before  him. 
Why  he  should  be  up  here  puzzles  me:  ay! 
and  how  he  ever  held  up  that  broadsword. 
Feel  the  weight  of  it,  Mademoiselle.  Who 
ever  the  fellow  is,  he  is  no  weakling.  I  '11 
turn  him  over,  and  see  what  I  can  do  with  this 
breastplate." 

The  movement  must  have  aroused  the  man 
to  consciousness,  or  else  it  pained  him  into 
[289] 


SHEA,  OF  THE  IRISH  BRIGADE 

expostulation,  for  he  swore  a  round  oath,  and 
made  a  vain  effort  to  sit  up.  I  helped  by 
bracing  my  shoulder  under  him,  and  the  star 
light  gave  me  an  unsatisfactory  glimpse  of 
his  face. 

"Unloose  the  old  iron!"  he  said  heartily, 
striving  to  make  me  out  through  the  darkness, 
but  evidently  unaware  of  the  near  presence  of 
the  girl.  "  It  is  worse  than  being  in  jail  —  not 
that  I  have  ever  tried  it,  although  I  suppose 
you  have  —  but,  anyway,  this  is  bad  enough. 
Come,  my  good  fellow,  help  me  out  of  the 
cursed  thing." 

"  How  does  it  open,  friend?  "  I  asked,  feel 
ing  in  vain  for  some  clasp,  and  tempted  to 
laugh  at  his  impatience.  "  I  can  find  nothing 
to  lay  hold  upon." 

"Saint  Agnes!  how  should  I  know? 
There 's  a  catch  there  somewhere.  Ay!  in  the 
back,  or  side.  By  my  faith,  the  affair  went 
together  easily  enough ;  just  a  click,  and  I  was 
trussed  up  like  a  fowl.  Turn  me  over,  and 
you  may  find  the  spot  —  the  thing  is  so  tight 
I  can  scarcely  breathe.  Hah!  that's  better. 
[290] 


WE  LAY  THE  GHOST 


Heaven  preserve  me!  What's  here?  — a 
woman?  " 

"  Yes,"  I  said  rather  shortly,  not  altogether 
pleased  with  his  tone  of  command.  "  A 
woman,  and  it  might  be  well  for  you  to  mind 
your  words." 

"  Piff  1 "  he  returned  carelessly,  "  little  any 
thing  I  may  say  will  hurt  her,  I  imagine.  If 
she  consorts  with  these  ruffians  —  " 

"  Now  see  here,"  I  broke  in  roughly  enough 
to  hush  him.  "  You  are  not  talking  to  any  of 
La  Forte's  gang,  and  I  have  small  inclination 
to  take  orders  from  you,  whoever  you  may  be. 
Bear  that  in  mind,  will  you.  Now  then  lie 
still  —  here  is  something  at  last  not  unlike  a 
clasp." 

He  turned  obediently  enough  to  the  pres 
sure  of  my  grip,  but  continued  to  stare  at  me 
through  the  darkness.  At  last  his  temper 
broke  loose. 

"  If  I  was  free  from  this  I  would  make  you 
answer,  my  fine  fellow." 

"  You  are  likely  to  have  the  chance,  if  you 
keep  still  a  minute.  Now  I  have  it  —  sit  up." 
[291  ] 


SHEA,  OF  THE  IRISH  BRIGADE 

He  did,  and  I  took  off  the  heavy  breast 
plate,  and  cast  it  down  on  the  roof. 

"  See  what  you  can  do  with  the  rest  of  the 
harness.  This  is  no  time  for  talk." 

Able  to  attain  his  feet  once  more,  all  the 
natural  audacity  seemed  to  return.  The  visor 
still  concealed  his  face,  and  so  muffled  his 
voice  I  could  barely  distinguish  his  words. 
Not  knowing  what  the  fool  might  attempt  I 
arose  and  faced  him. 

"Isn't    it!"    he    sneered,    his    tone    ugly 

\ 

enough.  "  Now  see  here,  fellow,  I  am  able 
to  take  care  of  myself,  and  I  talk  when  I 
please.  You  Ve  done  me  a  good  turn,  but  no 
ragamuffin  of  an  outlaw  can  tell  me  to  keep 
still." 

"  If  you  refer  to  me,"  I  returned  coldly,  but 
with  inclination  to  throttle  him,  "  you  waste 
breath  with  your  threats.  I  am  no  outlaw; 
but  a  French  officer." 

"  You !    How  came  you  here?  " 

"  The  story  can  wait.  Enough  that  I  am 
what  I  claim  to  be." 

"And  the  woman?" 
[292] 


WE  LAY  THE  GHOST 


"A  high  born  lady  of  France,  for  whose 
honor  I  would  fight  you  most  gladly,  Mon 


sieur." 


He  turned  toward  her,  no  more  than  a  dim, 
ill-defined  shadow  in  the  gloom,  and  bowed 
low,  with  excess  of  gallantry.  Then  he 
fronted  me  again,  and  laughed. 

"  Then  indeed  have  I  fallen  into  worthy 
hands,"  he  commented  sarcastically.  "  An 
officer  and  a  lady,  hey,  in  this  black  hole.  It 
has  the  twang  of  romance.  You  also  flee  those 
devils  below?" 

"  We  were  seeking  some  way  of  escape 
when  we  met  you." 

"And  mistook  me  for  a  ghost  —  is  that  it! 
Well,  you  were  scared  badly  enough.  Hal  I 
know  now  what  it  was  that  held  you  —  you 
were  ashamed  to  play  the  coward  before  the 
girl.  And  that  was  what  overcame  me.  I 
had  no  chance  to  fight  in  those  things,  but 
thought  the  very  sight  of  them  would  send 
you  flying.  So  it  would,  no  doubt,  had  you 
been  one  of  La  Forte's  miscreants.  In  sooth, 
I  Jm  sorry  not  to  try  it  on  them." 
[293] 


SHEA,  OF  THE  IRISH  BRIGADE 

He  stopped  suddenly,  and  then  laughed 
again,  as  if  a  new  idea  had  struck  him. 

"  By  Gadl  I  have  itl  A  French  officer, 
say  you?  Ah!  and  I  '11  make  a  guess  at  the 
name.  Saint  Anne!  I  thought  I  knew  that 
voice,  although  to  save  me  I  could  n't  put  a 
handle  to  it.  Are  you  Shea,  of  the  Irish 
Brigade?" 

"  I  am,"  I  answered,  still  on  my  guard,  for 
the  actions  of  the  man  puzzled  me.  "  But  you 
have  the  advantage  with  your  face  concealed. 
Let 's  have  done  with  this  masquerade,  Mon 
sieur,  and  find  out  if  we  are  to  be  friends  or 
foes.  There  is  a  lady  here  who  needs  de 
fenders." 

He  had  found  the  clasp  of  the  helmet,  and 
flung  the  heavy  bit  of  armor  aside,  turning 
toward  where  she  stood  with  a  low  bow. 

"  A  duty  in  which  I  have  never  been  known 
to  fail,  my  hot-headed  Irish  friend,"  he  said 
almost  gaily.  "Faith,  but  this  is  an  odd  af 
fair,  so  odd  I  take  it  to  be  the  devil's  own 
brewing.  What  say  you  if  I  name  myself 
Charles  d'Enville?  " 

[294] 


WE  LAY  THE  GHOST 


"  Only  that  I  sincerely  thank  God,"  I  re 
plied  soberly,  not  so  greatly  surprised  at  his 
disclosure,  yet  immensely  relieved.  "  I  half 
suspected,  Monsieur,  although  I  fled  the 
camp  believing  you  seriously  hurt.  I  do  not 
understand,  but  I  am  glad." 

"  No  doubt  of  that,"  and  to  my  surprise  he 
cordially  extended  his  hand.  "  And  it  was  no 
fault  of  you,  or  your  sword  blade.  The  blow 
was  for  the  heart,  had  it  not  encountered  a 
decoration,  which  turned  it  into  a  flesh  wound. 
However,  it  was  a  fair  fight  between  com 
rades,  and  no  doubt  I  spoke  harshly  —  'tis 
apt  to  be  my  way.  Let 's  have  done  with  the 
memory  of  it,  and  turn  to  our  task,  Monsieur. 
The  lady  is  one  you  know?  " 

"  I  call  her  friend,  Monsieur,  and  your 
sister." 

He  wheeled  suddenly,  still  hampered  in 
his  movements  by  the  heavy  armor  clinging 
to  his  lower  limbs,  but  no  longer  careless,  or 
feigning  indifference.  The  very  sound  of  his 
voice  took  on  a  new  tone. 

"  My  sister,  you  say?  Camille  you  —  you 
[295] 


SHEA,  OF  THE  IRISH  BRIGADE 

here  I  My  God !  this  is  strange  1  Tell  me,  how 
does  it  happen?  You  were  in  Paris  three  days 
ago." 

She  clung  to  him  sobbing,  scarcely  able  to 
control  her  voice. 

"  Do  not  ask  me  now,  Charles,"  she  man 
aged  to  articulate.  "  It  was  all  a  foul  plot, 
in  which  we  were  both  involved.  I  —  I  can 
not  speak;  I  —  I  am  so  glad  you  are  alive." 

"  Oh,  ho,  so  this  young  jackanapes  has  been 
boasting  that  he  split  me  on  his  sword,  hey! 
'T  is  not  so  easily  done.  But  I  would  get  to 
the  truth  of  this  matter.  Is  the  Irishman 
friend  or  foe?  " 

She  held  his  arm  firmly. 

"Do  not  mistrust  him;  he  has  been  my 
friend.  He  is  here  now  seeking  to  save  me. 
It  is  de  Saule  who  has  plotted  evil." 

"  De  Saule!  Ah!  I  have  a  glimmer  of 
light.  The  fiend  would  win  by  force,  what  he 
cannot  gain  otherwise.  And  the  king?  " 

"  Aids  him  —  Louis  likes  to  have  his  own 
way." 

"  Listen  to  me,  d'Enville,"  I  broke  in  im- 
[296] 


WE  LAY  THE  GHOST 


patiently.  "  And  I  will  give  you  the  story  in 
a  word.  Mademoiselle  is  frightened  and  un 
strung.  'T  is  like  this,  as  I  have  picked  it  up. 
Louis  would  marry  his  favorite  to  Made 
moiselle  d'Enville,  and  the  lady  will  have 
nothing  of  the  match.  She  shows  her  good 
taste.  But  de  Saule  has  power  with  the  king, 
and  a  wit  to  devise  other  means  than  persua 
sion.  With  the  help  of  the  king  he  plots.  Ay! 
and,  only  that  I  came  in  accidentally,  the  plan 
was  not  so  bad.  They  induce  Mademoiselle 
to  leave  Paris  with  dispatches,  guided  by  a 
fellow  in  de  Saule's  pay.  They  convince  her 
that  only  a  woman  can  penetrate  the  lines  of 
the  allies.  They  know  her  spirit;  that  she 
loves  France  and  will  volunteer  to  go.  That 
is  easy.  She  is  to  be  guided  into  an  ambus 
cade,  and  taken  prisoner  by  La  Forte's  rascals; 
and  thus  kidnaped  —  then  brought  to  this  cas 
tle  of  Roisel  —  " 

"IsthisRoisel?" 

"Ay!  a  deserted  ruin  for  three  hundred 
years,  by  all  the  peasants  hereabout  supposed 
to  be  haunted.  'T  is  a  fine  rendezvous  for 
[297] 


SHEA.  OF  THE  IRISH  BRIGADE 

such  banditti.  'Twas  so  chosen.  De  Saule 
himself  was  hand  in  glove  with  the  villains  in 
their  infernal  plot." 

"With  La  Porte?" 

"  Small  doubt  of  that.  Mademoiselle  says 
he  is  La  Porte;  that  he  has  boasted  of  it  to 
her." 

"  Mon  Dieuf  But  go  on.  I  begin  to  see 
where  I  come  in  on  this  scheme  —  'T  was  the 
king's  order  that  sent  me  afield  on  wild  goose 
chase." 

"  I  thought  as  much.  It  was  all  arranged 
to  work  smoothly,  but  luck  intervened.  'T  was 
a  party  of  English  guards  who  captured  Ma 
demoiselle,  before  La  Porte's  men  had  a 
chance.  Her  guide  was  killed,  and  she  was 
brought  to  an  inn  in  the  village  out  yonder. 
It  was  there  we  met  first,  and  endeavored  to 
escape.  But  while  I  sought  a  horse  the  lady 
was  spirited  away,  and  brought  here.  Some 
fate  led  me  right,  and,  under  God,  I  found 
her." 

D'Enville  stood  motionless,  waiting  for  me 
to  go  on,  his  eyes  turning  from  my  obscured 
[298] 


WE  LAY  THE  GHOST 


face  toward  his  sister,  as  though  he  would 
assure  himself. 

"  He  has  served  you?  "  he  asked  finally,  his 
tone  hard,  and  insistent. 

For  answer  she  crossed  to  me,  and  held  out 
both  hands. 

"  He  is  a  true  man,"  she  said  simply,  glanc 
ing  backward  across  her  shoulder.  "  I  have 
every  trust  in  Arthur  Shea." 


[299] 


CHAPTER  XXII 

THE  ATTACK 

THE   chevalier,    moving   his   steel   clad 
limbs   awkwardly,  managed  to  shuffle 
forward  to  where  our  dim  shapes  assumed 
some  semblance  to  reality.     It  relieved  me 
when  his  lips  emitted  a  good-natured  laugh. 

"  You  must,  indeed,  have  proven  your 
worth,  Monsieur,  to  win  such  words  of  confi 
dence,  from  the  lady,"  he  said  stifling  his 
amusement.  "Faith!  I  know  this  sister  of 
mine,  and  never  have  I  heard  her  speak  so 
frankly  before.  And  her  recommendation  is 
good  enough  for  me.  Your  hand  again, 
Monsieur.  Ay!  and  a  good  firm  grip  —  I  like 
that.  It  is  the  kind  that  holds  a  sword  firm, 
and  strikes  home.  Never  dream  I  hold  ani 
mosity  for  the  prick  you  gave  me.  'T  was  a 
fair  battle,  and  you  Irish  are  of  a  fighting  race ; 
Jt  is  in  the  blood.  So  we  '11  be  done  with  that, 
and  stand  comrades  now.  What  say  you, 
lieutenant?  " 

[300] 


THE  ATTACK 


"  With  all  my  heart,"  I  answered  heartily. 
"  We  have  enough  of  villainy  to  war  against 
to  wipe  out  our  foolish  quarrel.  Why,  friend, 
I  hardly  recall  now  what  caused  it  —  so  let 
it  go."  ' 

We  stood  silent,  hand  in  hand. 

"You  say  de  Saule  is  himself  here?"  he 
asked  as  if  still  doubtful. 

"  I  saw  him  myself  in  the  hall  below,  and 
he  led  the  way  up  the  stairs  in  search  after  you. 
'T  was  the  man  you  knocked  down  when  you 
ran,  and  you  left  your  mark  on  him.  There 
is  no  doubt  about  the  fellow,  for  he  held  con 
verse  with  Mademoiselle,  and  threatened  her. 
Ay!  the  duke  is  here  fast  enough,  and  his 
humped-back  dwarf  is  with  him." 

"The  wretch  Gospele?" 

"  That  is  the  fellow.  I  found  him  here 
alone  on  the  roof,  and  dragged  a  confession 
out  of  the  scoundrel.  The  moment  I  recog 
nized  him  I  knew  de  Saule  was  involved,  and 
suspected  his  purpose.  The  dwarf  is  locked 
safely  in  the  same  cell  you  occupied.  Did  you 
kill  Deslins,  Monsieur?" 
[301  ] 


SHEA,  OF  THE  IRISH  BRIGADE 

"If  you  mean  the  jailer  —  yes,"  he  an 
swered  indifferently.  "  The  thief  wore  my 
uniform,  and  before  I  could  strip  it  from  him 
someone  approached,  and  I  was  compelled 
to  hide." 

"  Gospele,  no  doubt;  I  caught  my  first 
glimpse  of  the  fellow  in  the  alcove  of  the 
big  hall." 

"  It  may  have  been,  although  I  was  not 
where  I  could  see.  However,  there  was  more 
than  one,  for  I  heard  voices.  Once  later  I 
endeavored  to  reach  the  stairs,  but  there  was 
a  man  there  seemingly  on  guard.  Then  he 
disappeared  somewhere,  but  I  had  no  sooner 
stolen  into  the  corridor  than  someone  came 
tramping  down  upon  me  from  the  rear.  You 
say  this  was  de  Saule?  " 

"  He  was  the  man,  returning  below  after 
having  conversed  with  Mademoiselle." 

"  I  had  but  a  glimpse  of  him,  and  it  was 
already  growing  dusk.  I  sprang  aside  into  a 
small  room  beyond,  and  found  a  man  skulk 
ing  there.  He  was  more  frightened  than  I, 
although  neither  of  us  dare  speak  a  word. 
[302] 


THE  ATTACK 


His  was  a  face  I  had  seen  before,  yet  cannot 
recall  where.  Do  you  know  who  he  was, 
Monsieur?  " 

"  A  captain  of  the  Regiment  of  Touraine, 
Emil  Gassier.  I  found  him  prisoner  on  the 
lower  floor,  and  left  him  to  watch,  while  I 
sought  for  a  way  out.  He  was  the  man  on 
guard  at  the  stairs.  He  is  dead." 

"Dead!" 

"  Ay!  he  toppled  over,  and  fell  to  the  stone 
flags  below.  The  horror  of  his  death  cry 
rings  in  my  ears  yet" 

"  'T  was  the  scream  I  heard.  I  thought  it 
the  wail  of  a  ghost,  and  my  blood  ran  cold." 

I  felt  Mademoiselle's  hands  clutching  mine 
in  nervous  terror. 

"  Monsieur,"  she  whispered.  "  Let  us  not 
stand  here  and  talk  of  all  this.  It  can  do  no 
good,  and  it  only  frightens  me  to  remember. 
I  am  not  a  soldier,  Monsieur;  I  am  just  a 


woman." 


"  For  which  I  am  thankful,"  I  returned  in 
the  same  low  voice,  and  glad  to  be  aroused 
to  action.     "  Come,  chevalier,  the  whole  af- 
[303] 


SHEA,  OF  THE  IRISH  BRIGADE 

fair  is  sufficiently  explained.  Get  your  limbs 
free  from  that  harness,  and  we  will  soon  dis 
cover  if  there  be  any  other  way  down  from 
this  roof." 

"  I  doubt  if  there  is,"  he  growled,  tugging 
at  the  clasps.  "  I  was  seeking  for  some  pas 
sage  when  you  came,  but  had  found  none. 
Give  me  your  help  here  —  press  the  hook 
back;  so.  Now  try  the  other  one.  Not  you, 
Camille,  'twill  only  hurt  your  fingers.  Let 
me  get  hold  with  you,  Shea.  It  was  bad 
enough  dressing  up  in  this  rig,  but  the  getting 
out  of  it  is  a  confounded  sight  harder.  Ah  I 
it  gives  —  ah,  I  'm  a  man  again,  and  can  act 
the  part." 

I  stood  up,  and  glanced  about,  seeking  to 
distinguish  more  clearly  the  objects  surround 
ing  us.  I  had  been  too  busily  engaged  during 
my  first  visit  to  make  any  exploration,  but 
now  the  necessity  of  knowing  our  exact  situ 
ation  became  clearly  apparent.  I  was  no 
longer  alone  in  my  responsibility,  and  d'En- 
ville  possessed  the  reputation  of  reckless  dar 
ing,  and  no  small  prowess  in  arms.  Yet  it  was 
[304] 


THE  ATTACK 


not  reckless  fighting,  but  wit,  which  would 
better  serve  us  now.  There  was  no  sound  of 
our  pursuers  —  the  chances  were  they  had 
failed  to  discover  the  secret  door  leading  to 
the  stairs,  or  were  unable  to  learn  its  mechan 
ism.  It  was  evident  also  they  knew  of  no 
other  means  of  attaining  the  roof.  But  for 
de  Saule's  leadership  we  would  have  little  to 
fear,  for  his  cowardly  following  would  troop 
backward  to  the  lower  floor  at  the  slightest 
excuse.  But  de  Saule  was  of  bull-dog  breed, 
and  would  hang  on.  Ay!  the  man  had  too 
much  at  stake  to  let  go;  his  thoughtless  con 
fession  to  Mademoiselle  relative  to  his  con 
nection  with  these  outlaws  would  alone 
render  him  desperate,  for  if  once  the  truth 
reached  the  ears  of  the  king,  his  days  of  favor 
were  ended.  And  what  course  would  he  pur 
sue  when  he  found  his  way  blocked?  Where 
would  he  naturally  turn?  It  was  a  riddle  not 
hard  to  read.  He  had  no  reason  to  suspect 
my  presence  in  the  castle,  and  no  knowledge 
of  the  release  of  Mademoiselle  from  her  con*- 
finement  in  the  tower. 

[305] 


SHEA,  OF  THE  IRISH  BRIGADE 

In  our  flight  through  the  darkness  he  had 
gained  no  glimpse  of  our  presence.  But  he 
was  aware  of  the  death  of  Deslins,  and,  might 
naturally  suspect  that  d'Enville  had  killed  the 
jailer.  Indeed  it  was  highly  probable  he  had 
even  recognized  the  latter  in  the  fight  at  the 
head  of  the  stairs.  Then  the  first  thing  he 
would  do,  when  he  found  pursuit  useless, 
would  be  to  retrace  his  steps,  and  learn  posi 
tively  if  the  chevalier  had  escaped  from  the 
cell  in  which  he  had  been  confined.  That 
search  would  release  Gospele,  would  reveal 
my  presence,  and,  undoubtedly  lead  to  the 
knowledge  that  the  lady  had  also  escaped. 
Such  information  would  only  serve  to  increase 
de  Saule's  anger,  and  render  him  desperate. 
He  would  have  everything  at  stake,  and  would 
hesitate  at  nothing. 

And  Gospele  could  furnish  him  with  the 
information  needed.  I  felt  no  doubt  as  to 
that,  for  the  dwarf  had  not  wandered  for  days 
about  those  corridors  without  discovering 
their  secrets.  He  would  recall  instantly  the 
door  leading  to  the  stairs,  and  might  even 
[306] 


THE  ATTACK 


know  how  to  manipulate  the  hidden  spring 
by  which  it  operated.  And  de  Saule  would 
drag  the  information  from  the  slinking  cur; 
would  drive  his  gang  of  cutthroats  through 
the  darkness,  and  compel  them  to  do  his  will. 
Ay!  he  was  man  enough  for  that  —  for  he 
would  realize  that  all  his  future  depended  on 
our  capture.  It  was  likely  enough  they  were 
below  there  now,  making  ready  to  steal  cau 
tiously  up  the  narrow  stairs,  and  pounce  upon 
us.  We  had  enjoyed  a  respite,  a  breathing 
spell,  an  opportunity  to  gather  our  wits,  and 
take  counsel  together.  For  a  brief  space  we 
had  baffled,  and  confused  the  villains,  but 
soon,  if  not  already,  they  would  be  on  our  trail, 
and  we  must  depend  upon  ourselves;  there 
was  no  outside  help  probable  —  no  wandering 
patrol,  French,  or  allied,  would  likely  come 
to  our  rescue.  I  glanced  at  Mademoiselle, 
the  outline  of  her  sweet  face  barely  visible, 
and  my  hands  clinched  with  desperate 
resolve. 

"  You  say,  d'Enville,  there  is  no  other  way 
down?" 

[307] 


SHEA,  OF  THE  IRISH  BRIGADE 

"  Only  that  I  found  none,  and  I  searched 
as  best  I  could.  5T  is  strange  too  the  place 
should  be  left  a  cul-de-sac." 

"  There  may  be  a  secret  way,  not  to  be  un 
covered  in  the  dark.  'Twas  mere  luck  that 
revealed  the  other,  the  stone  left  ajar.  How 
ever,  't  is  plain  there  is  but  one  plan  left  us, 
Chevalier,  and  that  is  to  defend  those  stairs 
yonder  until  daylight  gives  us  a  chance  to 
search.  By  this  time  the  dawn  cannot  be  very 
far  away." 

He  glanced  about  uneasily. 

"  You  believe  they  may  discover  the  pas 
sage?" 

"  'T  is  my  reasoning  that  de  Saule  will 
prowl  about  until  he  finds  that  rascal  of  a 
dwarf  locked  up  where  I  left  him.  The  fel 
low  undoubtedly  knows  the  secret  of  those 
stairs.  The  rest  is  plain,  Monsieur,  for  you 
know  de  Saule." 

"  A  spawn  of  the  devil !  " 

"And  desperate  withal;  our  escape  will 
mean  his  ruin,  and  he  will  hesitate  at  no  crime. 
Are  you  armed?  " 

[308] 


THE  ATTACK 


He  laughed,  as  though  the  thought  amused 
his  humor,  and  stooped  down  to  grasp  the 
ancient  broadsword  at  his  feet. 

"  Only  with  this  neat  weapon.  I  know  not 
the  name  it  once  went  by,  but  the  tuck  calls 
for  a  man  with  two  good  hands  to  wield  it. 
Try  the  weight  of  the  metal,  friend.  Saint 
Anne!  there  must  have  been  giants  in  those 
days  to  twirl  a  blade  like  this." 

We  were  careless,  I  admit,  idling  there  in 
talk,  when  our  effort  should  have  been  to  make 
secure  our  defense  against  those  villains  be 
low.  Yet  there  was  nothing  to  cause  alarm, 
no  sound  even  of  voices  in  the  still  night.  The 
thought  that  Gospele  released  might  know 
the  secret  of  the  stone  door,  and  lead  de  Saule 
to  the  roof,  was  no  more  than  a  suspicion,  and, 
if  the  men  did  discover  the  stair,  their  advance 
upward  would  surely  never  be  a  silent  one. 
I  doubted  if  even  the  duke  could  drive  them 
to  such  a  venture,  before  dawn  made  the  pas 
sage  clear,  but,  if  he  did  succeed,  it  would 
only  be  attempted  under  the  glare  of  torches, 
the  light  of  which  would  instantly  betray  their 
[309] 


SHEA,  OF  THE  IRISH  BRIGADE 

coming.  And  the  defense  was  likely  to  be  no 
more  than  child's  play;  a  single  stout  arm  in 
the  tower  could  drive  back  the  whole  crew. 
Besides  the  reckless  nature  of  d'Enville  had 
effect  on  me.  He  was  an  older  man,  a  more 
experienced  soldier,  an  officer  of  higher  rank, 
and  his  careless  good  nature,  and  the  spirit 
of  badinage,  served  to  transform  a  situation 
really  serious  into  a  bit  of  sport.  To  my  sug 
gestion  that  we  stand  on  guard,  he  but 
laughed,  and  shrugged  his  shoulders,  whisper 
ing  some  message  to  Mademoiselle,  which 
might  have  been  reflection  on  my  courage.  At 
least  the  supposition  served  to  heat  my  blood, 
and  silence  my  tongue. 

Had  we  two  been  alone  words  might  have 
led  to  quarrel,  for  there  was  an  insolence 
about  the  fellow  that  rasped  me,  in  spite  of 
his  pretense  at  comaraderie.  It  was  not  my 
nature  to  stand  quiet  before  any  reflection, 
veiled  or  open,  and  there  was  a  sneer  in  the 
man's  voice  not  to  be  ignored.  My  hand 
gripped  my  sword  hilt,  a  hot  retort  on  my 
lips  —  but  she  was  his  sister,  and  I  loved  her. 
[3io] 


THE  ATTACK 


We  could  not  contend,  not  there,  at  least,  in 
her  presence,  and  my  fingers  relaxed,  and  I 
walked  away  from  them  into  the  deeper 
shadow  of  the  high  wall,  struggling  to  conquer 
myself.  She  must  have  understood  —  a 
woman's  intuition  telling  her  the  truth,  for  a 
moment  later  her  shadow  left  his  side,  and 
came  silently  toward  me.  I  remained  motion 
less,  leaning  on  a  stone,  until  her  hand  touched 
my  arm. 

"  Monsieur,"  she  said  softly.  "  It  is  only 
his  way;  he  was  ever  careless  of  speech." 

"  And  of  manners,"  I  could  not  help  add 
ing  bitterly,  although  my  fingers  clasped  her 
own.  "  Yet  you  need  not  fear,  Mademoiselle, 
for  although  I  am  young  of  heart,  and  hot  of 
blood,  there  shall  be  no  exchange  of  words 
between  us  tonight.  There  may  be  all  the 
fighting  we  need  in  defense  of  you." 

Her  hand  clasp  tightened,  and  the  faint 
starlight  revealed  the  contour  of  her  uplifted 
face,  the  dark  gleam  of  her  eyes. 

"  I  know,"  she  said,  as  though  the  words 
came  unsought.  "  You  came  over  here  to 
[311] 


SHEA,  OF  THE  IRISH  BRIGADE 

gain  control.  I  saw  your  hand  on  the  sword 
hilt  You  are  a  brave  man,  Monsieur,  and 
true.  Yet  —  I  —  I  thought  my  trust  might 
strengthen  you."  She  glanced  about,  as  though 
to  assure  herself  we  were  alone.  "  He  is  my 
brother." 

"  I  shall  not  forget,  but  it  is  a  mystery  how 
you  two  are  of  the  same  blood.  Surely  he 
has  no  more  cause  for  arrogant  pride  than 
you?" 

"I  am  of  the  court;  he,  the  camp  —  the 
environment  develops  different  characteristics, 
Monsieur." 

"True  enough,  no  doubt;  yet  never  did 
I  suppose  the  court  of  Louis  to  be  over 
stocked  with  modesty,  or  a  school  for  gentle 


ness." 


"  Nor  is  it,  Monsieur,"  she  returned  soberly. 
"  Nor  am  I  a  flower  of  such  rare  excellence. 
I  am  not  devoid  of  pride,  perchance  even  of 
arrogance.  I  have  laughed  at  a  king,  and 
refused  obedience.  I  am  also  a  d'Enville. 
Others  besides  the  Duke  de  Saule  have  dis 
covered  that.  'T  is  not  an  angel,  but  a  woman, 


THE  ATTACK 


Monsieur,  whom  you  have  succored  yes,  a 
woman  of  moods.  Tonight  I  am  your  friend 
—  tomorrow  —  " 

She  paused,  drawing  in  her  breath  quickly, 
and  yielding  to  a  swift  impulse,  I  bent  down, 
and  kissed  her  hand. 

"  Tomorrow  you  will  still  be  to  me,  at  least, 
Camille  d'Enville.  I  am  not  afraid." 

"What!  not  even  of  me,  Monsieur?  Now 
I  know  you  for  a  bold  man,  yet  the  boast  has 
been  made  before  by  others." 

"  But  I  am  not  others,"  I  dared  to  insist, 
bantered  by  her  words.  "  I  am  Arthur  Shea, 
a  soldier  of  fortune.  I  have  all  to  win,  and 
naught  to  lose  —  so  why  should  I  fear?  Have 
I  guessed  wrong  about  tomorrow?  " 

She  hesitated,  the  long  lashes  hiding  her 
eyes. 

"You  may  guess,  Monsieur;  I  cannot  tell. 
Tomorrow  will  be  a  new  day.  What  I  am 
tonight,  I  am  —  tomorrow,  what  I  may  be;  I 
could  not  tell  you,  if  I  would  Monsieur,  for 
I  know  not  the  answer.  There  is  in  the  shops 
of  Paris,  a  changeable  weave  of  silk  they  call 
[3i3] 


SHEA,  OF  THE  IRISH  BRIGADE 

Camille;  at  night  it  is  rose-tinted,  and  by  day 
a  golden  brown.  I  am  Camille  d'Enville ;  to 
those  who  know  me  well  that  is  answer 
enough." 

"  But  do  they  know  you?  Those  who  think 
they  do?" 

Her  eyes  flashed  up  into  my  face,  although 
in  that  dim  light  I  could  not  tell  whether  they 
laughed  or  frowned. 

"They  think  they  do,  Monsieur;  nor  is  it 
for  me  to  say.  The  truth  is  for  you  to  learn, 
yet  Charles  has  always  called  me  a  will  o'  the 
wisp,  and  held  me  uncertain  as  a  bubble  of  air 

—  and  one's  brother  should  know,  Monsieur." 
I  glanced  beyond  at  the  dimly  revealed  fig 
ure  of  the  silent  chevalier,  whose  very  presence 
I  had  forgotten.    He  was  apparently  kneeling 
on  the  roof,  although  I  could  not  determine 
what  it  was  that  occupied  his  attention  so 
closely.     Indeed  I  had  no  time  in  which  to 
discover,  for  even  as  I  glanced  that  way  I  be 
held  a  moving  figure  behind  him,  a  shapeless 
form  stealing  forward  through  the  shadows 

—  then  another,  and  a  third. 

[3H] 


CHAPTER  XXIII 

THE  FIGHT  FOR  LIFE 

A"  FIRST  glimpse  I  failed  to  sense  the 
reality  of  those  spectral  figures,  half  be 
lieving  them  visionary.  So  suddenly  had  they 
emerged  upon  view,  without  warning,  that  I 
stood  staring  in  dazed  wonderment,  striving 
to  collect  my  faculties,  imagining  my  eyes 
played  me  some  trick.  I  even  took  a  step 
backward,  the  quick  horror  of  that  phantom- 
like  approach  bringing  to  me  a  twinge  of  fear 
paralyzing  the  mind.  Then  Mademoiselle 
gave  utterance  to  a  gasp,  grasping  my  arm  in 
terror,  and  I  saw  d'Enville  rise  to  his  feet,  the 
great  broad-sword  lifted  in  both  hands.  In 
stantly  in  swift  response  to  this  movement  of 
others,  proof  that  the  vision  came  not  from 
disordered  brain,  the  blood  rushed  back  into 
my  veins  and  the  sword  hilt  leaped  into  the 
grip  of  my  fingers.  Those  were  men  con 
fronting  us  —  men!  Something  to  front  and 
fight,  wound  and  kill.  The  situation  came  to 
[3i5] 


SHEA.  OF  THE  IRISH  BRIGADE 

me  in  a  flash  —  they  had  discovered  the  mech 
anism  of  the  secret  door,  had  crept  silently 
up  the  unguarded  stairs,  and,  taking  advan 
tage  of  our  carelessness,  had  stolen  out  upon 
the  roof.  De  Saule  was  among  them,  and 
Gospele,  and  the  giant  Guieteau,  eager  to  get 
blow  at  us,  no  longer  fearful  of  ghosts,  and 
dragging  their  cowardly  crew  along  by  threat 
and  promise.  Ay!  and  they  saw  us;  were 
circling  out  to  trap  us  beyond  escape  —  to 
meet  them  in  the  open  was  certain  defeat.  But 
here,  in  the  angle  of  this  broken  wall,  there 
was  a  chance  —  we  in  the  blacker  shadow, 
they  in  the  starlight. 

"Back  here,  d'Enville!"  I  cried  desper 
ately,  thrusting  Mademoiselle  behind  me. 
"  Quick,  man!  Do  n't  stop  where  you  are!  " 

He  heard  me,  and  so  did  those  others,  but 
the  chevalier  hesitated,  all  discretion  lost,  all 
memory  of  his  sister  no  doubt,  the  recklessness 
of  his  nature  holding  him  stubborn. 

"  Close  in,  lads! "  shouted  a  voice  eagerly. 
"  We  Ve  got  them  trapped.    They  are  only 
men  —  two  of  them  to  fight  you !  " 
[316] 


THE  FIGHT  FOR  LIFE 


"Ah!  so  you  think  'twill  be  easily  done 
de  Saule?"  and  d'Enville  laughed.  "Come 
on  then,  and  try,  you  snarling  jackal.  'T  is  no 
duelling  courtier  you  fight  now,  satisfied  with 
a  pin  prick." 

I  called  again,  my  own  brain  clear  enough, 
and  realizing  the  odds  against  us. 

"  Not  in  the  open !  you  have  no  chance 
there;  come  back  here." 

I  could  see  the  turn  of  his  head,  the  swift 
glance  he  cast  toward  where  I  stood  shielding 
the  girl. 

"Ay!  in  a  minute,  but  not  till  I  leave  my 
mark.  Ah!  I  see  you  now,  you  black  rene 
gade." 

It  was  such  swift  action  I  could  scarce  tell 
what  happened.  Had  I  deemed  best  I  could 
scarce  have  been  of  aid,  but  my  plain  duty 
was  to  remain  where  I  was,  crouched  in  the 
angle  of  the  wall,  the  girl  behind  me,  my 
sword  blade  ready.  I  felt  the  grasp  of  her 
hand  on  my  sleeve,  and  heard  the  quick  puls 
ing  of  her  breath.  I  could  not  distinguish 
de  Saule  among  the  others,  but  the  chevalier 
[317] 


SHEA,  OF  THE  IRISH  BRIGADE 

must  have  singled  him  out,  for  he  leaped  for 
ward  hurling  aside  a  fellow  who  stood  be 
tween,  and  struck  viciously.  There  was  a 
clash  of  steel,  a  spark  or  two  as  contending 
blades  met,  then  a  mingling  of  shadowy  fig 
ures,  and  a  sound  of  angry  voices.  I  doubt  if 
there  was  a  minute  of  fighting,  but  it  was  fierce 
enough  at  that!  D'Enville  cut  and  thrust  like 
a  demon,  wielding  his  ancient  weapon  with 
both  hands,  and  making  no  effort  to  protect 
himself.  Seemingly  he  had  no  thought,  or 
purpose,  save  to  reach  the  duke,  and  wreak 
vengeance,  but  the  latter  had  no  will  for  such 
encounter,  backing  away,  and  roaring  out 
some  order  to  his  men.  The  chevalier  struck 
them  aside  like  flies,  toppling  one  headlong 
with  thrust  of  his  shoulder;  another  fell  with 
the  sweep  downward  of  the  blade,  and  a  sharp 
scream  told  me  Gospele  had  felt  the  stroke. 
Then  he  met  a  real  swordsman,  and  there  was 
clang  of  steel  on  steel,  a  shout  of  derision,  an 
oath,  the  noise  of  trampling  feet.  I  could  see 
little  only  the  confused  blot  of  rapidly  moving 
figures  engaged  in  desperate  combat.  But  for 
[3i81 


THE  FIGHT  FOR  LIFE 


my  obligation  to  protect  the  girl  kneeling  be 
hind  me,  her  hands  clutching  my  sleeve,  I 
should  have  leaped  forward,  careless  of  my 
own  safety,  and  hurled  myself  into  that  strug 
gling  mass.  Yet  I  dare  not  leave  her  there 
alone.  Already  there  were  figures  visible  to 
right  and  left  stealing  forward,  the  starlight 
glimmering  on  drawn  weapons.  I  heard  the 
heavy  bass  of  Guieteau,  as  he  pointed  us  out 
to  his  creeping  jackals,  urging  them  to  the 
attack.  A  moment  more,  and  I  would  be  at 
sword-points  with  the  devils,  and  surely 
d'Enville  was  soldier  enough  to  make  good 
his  retreat.  I  shouted  to  him  a  swift  word  of 
warning,  but  the  man  either  failed  to  hear 
above  the  turmoil,  or  else  his  rage  drove  all 
other  consideration  from  his  brain.  The  great 
two-handed  sword  crashed  and  fell,  rose  again 
and  was  swept  down  with  remorseless  power. 
Twice  the  dark  shadows  of  bodies  on  the  roof 
broke  before  him. 

I  saw  him  stumble  over  them,  as  he  pressed 
grimly  on,  seeking  only  the  one  antagonist  he 
sought  to  kill.     I  doubt  if  he  ever  touched 
[319] 


SHEA,  OF  THE  IRISH  BRIGADE 

him,  for  now  as  they  knew  they  faced  living 
men,  the  villains  proved  their  courage,  confi 
dent  of  superior  numbers,  eager  to  bring  down 
their  prey.  They  fought  like  beasts,  dashing 
in  beneath  the  sweep  of  his  weapon,  and  grip 
ping  at  him  with  naked  hands.  He  killed,  but 
he  paid.  I  saw  the  flash  of  a  knife  buried  in 
his  side,  a  glare  of  flame  lit  the  horrid  scene 
as  a  pistol  flared,  a  dying  man  clung  to  him 
in  frenzied  agony.  Once  more  the  huge 
sword  swept  in  deadly  circle  —  then  he  tot 
tered,  sought  vainly  to  retain  his  feet,  and 
went  crashing  forward,  his  head  against  the 
stairs. 

And  now  it  was  I  —  I  alone !  Yet  as  I  live, 
I  recall  now  no  pang  of  fear;  no  sensation 
save  of  joy,  of  anticipation,  as  I  faced  them. 
The  fierce  ardor  of  fight  was  already  in  my 
blood,  the  eagerness  to  touch  steel,  the  desire 
to  slay.  Ay!  but  my  head  was  clear —  I  was 
not  meeting  that  onrush  like  a  mad  fool  in  the 
open,  but  in  the  crevice  of  the  wall,  where  they 
must  front  me.  'T  would  be  a  fair  fight,  and 
they  held  me  a  swordsman  even  in  the  army 


THE  FIGHT  FOR  LIFE 


of  France.  Under  God  I  would  put  my  mark 
on  those  dirty  devils  —  would  leave  a  tale  to 
tell.  Ay!  and  there  were  not  so  many  now. 
D'Enville  had  taken  toll;  there  was  many  a 
splotch  yonder  where  his  ancient  weapon  had 
bitten  deep  —  and,  not  only  that;  he  had  put 
fear  into  the  craven  hearts  of  the  others  that 
lived. 

I  heard  de  Saule  and  Guieteau  cursing,  and 
a  blow  struck,  ere  they  ventured  to  move. 
Then  they  crept  forward  like  snails,  stepping 
across  the  dead  bodies,  breathing  hard,  and 
swearing  and  snarling  like  a  pack  of  curs. 
Bah!  they  were  canaille,  prowling  wolves, 
with  no  stomach  for  fighting.  I  could  hiss  at 
them,  and  they  would  slink  away  howling. 
But  de  Saule  and  his  giant  lieutenant  were  of 
different  breed;  ay!  and  with  more  at  stake. 
This  was  to  be  no  boy's  play,  but  a  passage  at 
arms,  and  't  was  said  in  Paris  the  duke  wielded 
a  blade  in  skill.  With  muscles  tense,  and 
sword  advanced  I  waited,  drawing  in  a  long 
breath,  every  nerve  braced  and  ready. 

Mademoiselle's  grasp  on  my  arm  relaxed, 
[321] 


SHEA,  OF  THE  IRISH  BRIGADE 

and  I  realized  that  she  knew  what  was  com 
ing.  She  was  a  soldier's  daughter,  a  soldier's 
sister,  and  understood  I  must  be  left  free.  I 
glanced  aside  at  her,  a  mere  shadow  in  the 
concealing  niche  of  the  wall.  God!  if  those 
ruffians  ever  got  to  her,  it  would  be  when  I 
was  dead. 

"  Here,  take  this,"  I  said,  thrusting  my 
pistol  into  her  hands.  "  There  is  but  one  shot 
—  keep  it  to  the  last." 

"  Yes,  Monsieur,"  the  voice  firm,  assured. 

"  There  is  going  to  be  a  fight,  but  I  am  good 
for  it,"  I  went  on,  scarce  knowing  why  I 
spoke.  "  Crouch  back  as  far  as  you  can,  and 
keep  faith  in  me." 

"  I  shall  always  do  that,  Monsieur.  Are  we 
left  alone?  is  Charles  dead?" 

"  He  fell ;  and  whether  dead  or  alive,  is  out 
of  it.  They  are  coming  now." 

I  could  see  the  fellows,  yet  they  were  so 
bunched,  the  dim  light  confused  my  vision, 
and  'twas  hard  to  guess  how  many  held  their 
feet.  I  made  it  four,  beside  the  leaders, 
although  it  seemed  like  yet  another  crouched 
[322] 


THE  FIGHT  FOR  LIFE 


beyond  in  the  shadow.  I  could  not  be  sure; 
nor  did  I  care  greatly,  my  teeth  set,  my  blood 
leaping.  'Twas  not  such  dogs  who  would 
win  —  be  they  four  or  a  dozen.  My  fight 
was  with  Guieteau  and  de  Saule;  ay!  and  the 
Irish  heart  of  me  was  full  of  joy.  If  she  was 
not  there!  if  she  was  not  there!  But  I  would 
do  the  best  I  could  —  la  gentleman  of  the 
house  of  Berwick.  The  knotted  muscles 
swelled  in  my  forearm;  the  grip  of  my  fingers 
viselike  on  the  sword  hilt. 

It  was  all  in  an  instant,  this  pause,  this 
breathing  space.  Yet  that  which  followed 
was  so  swift  of  action,  so  jumbled  and  indis 
tinct  as  to  seem  more  dream  than  reality. 
There  is  nothing  clear,  vivid  about  any  of  it. 
It  was,  as  desperate  fighting  always  is,  a  mad, 
fierce,  heedless  struggle,  where  instinct  takes 
the  place  of  thought,  and  the  body  moves 
knowing  nothing  of  the  why,  or  how.  There 
was  a  blind  rush  forward,  a  shout  of  com 
mand,  a  roared  out  oath,  a  gleam  of  weapons 
in  the  starlight.  I  saw  the  dim  forms  of  men 
bunched  together,  their  faces  vague,  uncer- 
[323! 


SHEA,  OF  THE  IRISH  BRIGADE 

tain;  I  touched  steel  with  my  blade,  pushed 
a  foot  forward,  warded  and  lunged  under  the 
first  fellow's  guard.  There  was  a  cry  of 
agony,  a  toppling  back  of  his  body,  the  clatter 
of  a  falling  sword,  and  I  stood  over  him, 
thrusting  and  hacking,  careless  of  my  own 
hurt,  the  joy  of  the  fighting  turning  my  blood 
to  fire.  Oaths,  shouts,  greeted  the  onset, 
bearded  faces  fronted  me,  the  villains  giving 
way  in  surprise  before  so  fierce  an  attack. 
Bah!  they  were  like  children,  and  my  point 
tasted  blood. 

Suddenly  out  from  the  confused  muck,  a 
blade  struck  mine  —  a  blade  with  a  wrist 
behind  it.  I  felt  the  difference,  and  stiffened 
to  the  fight.  It  was  Guieteau,  his  giant  figure 
looming  black  and  ominous  before  me.  With 
one  sweep  of  his  free  arm  he  hurled  those 
others  aside,  one  sinking  helplessly  to  the  roof, 
and  drove  his  sword  straight  at  me. 

"  Get  back,  you  curs! "  he  yelled  savagely, 
"  till  I  show  this  fighting  cock  some  sword 
play." 

'Twas  a  vicious  thrust,  sped  by  a  strong 
[324] 


THE  FIGHT  FOR  LIFE 


arm,  and  only  by  lightning  speed,  and  rare 
luck,  did  my  blade  defend  it,  the  sharp  point 
tearing  through  my  sleeve,  and  forcing  me 
back  against  the  wall. 

"Well  struck,  you  brute!"  I  answered  be 
tween  clinched  teeth.    "  Now  take  mine!  " 

Faith,  he  was  no  swordsman,  no  fencer  of 
skill.  I  knew  that  before  we  had  thrust  and 
parried  twice,  but  the  giant  strength  of  his 
arm  bore  down  my  guard,  forced  me  to  des 
perate  defense.  I  could  prick  him,  and  did, 
bringing  blood  from  shoulder  and  thigh,  yet 
I  could  not  drive  my  blade  home,  his  strength 
holding  me  back.  Once  he  struck  my  head, 
a  glancing  blow,  and  once  he  drove  the  hilt 
of  my  own  sword  against  my  breast  so  hard  it 
staggered  me.  Yet  I  came  back  at  him  des 
perate  and  reckless,  realizing  my  task.  I  must 
kill,  else  he  would  wear  me  out  by  sheer  power 
of  muscle.  There  was  but  one  way,  and  I  took 
it.  An  instant  I  parried,  turning  his  blade 
aside  with  all  the  skill  at  fence  I  could  com 
mand,  mocking  him,  seeking  to  drive  the 
brute  furious  with  rage. 
[325] 


SHEA,  OF  THE  IRISH  BRIGADE 

"Ay!  and  where  did  you  learn  sword 
play? "  I  cried,  my  blade  darting  like  a 
venomous  snake  before  his  eyes.  "  In  some  far 
rier's  shop  I  warrant.  You  are  more  black 
smith  than  soldier.  Wait!  I  have  a  lesson  for 
you  here  —  ha!  does  that  taste  good?  And 
there  is  another  stroke  you  never  learned  —  a 
quarter  of  an  inch  more,  and  you  would  have 
been  out  of  it  —  next  time,  my  friend,  next 
time.  Bah!  you  are  a  big,  surly  cur,  but  your 
bark  is  worse  than  your  bite;  well,  you  Ve 
done  your  last  robbery,  and  your  last  murder, 
Monsieur  Guieteau.  Do  you  know  what  I 
am  going  to  do  with  you?  I  am  going  to  kill 
you  —  now!  " 

I  opened  my  guard,  and  he  struck,  foaming 
with  rage,  an  oath  bursting  from  his  lips.  By 
a  quick  turn  of  the  arm,  my  hilt  caught  the 
descending  blade,  and  I  leaped  straight  at 
him,  reckless  of  consequence,  taking  the  one 
chance,  and  driving  my  point  at  his  huge  body. 
It  struck,  but  we  went  down  together,  his  hand 
gripping  me,  my  leg  caught  under  him. 
There  was  an  instant  of  struggle;  someone 
[326] 


THE  FIGHT  FOR  LIFE 


loomed  above  us  with  a  drawn  sword  —  then 
a  flash  of  flame  split  the  darkness,  a  sharp  re 
port  rang  out,  and  the  fellow  reeled  back 
ward,  tripped  on  Guieteau's  foot,  and  fell  with 
a  crash.  I  wriggled  loose  from  the  dead 
weight,  my  sword  still  gripped  in  my  fingers, 
and  staggered  to  my  feet. 


[327] 


CHAPTER  XXIV 

CROSSED  SWORDS  WITH  DE  SAULE 

DAZED  as  I  was  I  realized  what  had 
happened  —  how  my  life  had  been 
saved.  Mademoiselle  had  fired  her  one  shot; 
had  sacrificed  her  only  defense  to  protect  me 
from  that  sword  thrust.  Breathing  heavily,  my 
wounds  burning,  my  eyes  blinded  with  blood, 
the  thrill  of  knowing  what  she  had  done, 
brought  back  instantly  my  strength,  my  zest 
for  battle.  I  was  her  champion;  alone  I  stood 
between  her  and  these  villains;  God  grant  me 
stout  heart  and  arm.  I  saw  dimly,  sweeping 
the  blood  from  before  my  eyes,  endeavoring 
to  distinguish  my  adversaries.  There  were 
but  two  left,  so  far  as  I  could  see  —  one  back 
close  by  the  steps,  as  though  ready  to  flee ;  the 
other  fronting  me,  with  sword  poised  for 
attack.  There  was  no  mistaking  who  he  was  — 
de  Saule!  My  blade  flew  up  eagerly  and  the 
steel  met  with  a  sharp  clang. 

"Stay  where  you  are,  Mademoiselle!"  I 
[328] 


CROSSED  SWORDS  WITH  DE  SAULE 

called,  in  fear  of  what  she  might  venture. 
"  I  am  all  right,  and  able  to  pluck  this  vul 
ture  of  his  feathers! " 

"  You  crow  loud  enough ! "  he  retorted 
hotly,  "  if  noise  were  all.  But  you  front  a 
swordsman  this  bout,  you  Irish  meddler.  I  '11 
show  you  some  Paris  tricks!  " 

"  Go  to,  Monsieur;  no  better  time  to  learn 
than  now ;  and  I  '11  teach  you  how  we  of  the 
army  fight  —  't  is  no  duel  for  points,  where 
a  pin  prick  means  victory.  En  guarde,  Mon 
sieur  le  Duke." 

We  were  at  it  furiously,  yet  with  no  such 
recklessness  as  marked  the  bout  with  Guie- 
teau.  Here  was  a  master  of  fence;  I  knew 
his  skill  before,  but  now  I  became  doubly 
assured  his  was  no  common  hand.  The  truth 
was  in  the  steady,  firm  blade  that  met  mine, 
the  quick,  baffling  thrust,  the  swift  recovery, 
the  subtle  twist  of  wrist.  And  the  man  knew 
his  power,  felt  confidence  in  his  skill.  Ay! 
but  he  misjudged  mine,  and  I  retained  the 
sense  to  keep  him  ignorant.  I  gave  back,  my 
nerve  strengthening,  my  breath  slower,  ever 
[329] 


SHEA,  OF  THE  IRISH  BRIGADE 

gaining  better  control  of  my  mental  faculties. 
This  was  to  be  a  fight  to  the  death,  and  I  could 
wait,  assured  of  ability  to  defend  myself.  I 
would  try  the  man  out,  test  his  temper,  learn 
his  tricks  of  sword  play,  and  where  his  guard 
was  weak.  Yet  it  proved  stern  work  at  that, 
for  he  came  at  me  like  a  demon,  deceived 
by  my  retreat,  and  esteeming  himself  an  easy 
victor. 

There  was  faint  gleam  of  light  in  the  east 
ern  sky,  a  mere  brightening,  yet  sufficient  to 
reveal  the  man's  face.  I  could  see  the  flash 
of  his  eyes,  the  self-satisfied  smile  curling  his 
lips,  as  he  drove  his  dancing  point  along  my 
blade,  as  though  thinking  thus  to  dazzle  and 
frighten  me.  Ay!  and  he  knew  the  business, 
possessing  a  most  pretty  fence  and  guard,  a 
long  and  deadly  thrust,  and  many  a  sly  trick  I 
had  never  before  seen.  But  he  was  a  duelist, 
not  a  fighter,  and  mistook  words  for  deeds. 

"Ha!  ha!  my  friend!"  he  cried,  driving 

his  glittering  point  the  length  of  my  blade. 

"  I   have  met  men   of  your  school   before. 

'T  was  a  Royal  Irlandais  I  gave  the  steel  to  at 

[330] 


CROSSED  SWORDS  WITH  DE  SAULE 

Paris  a  week  back.  Fools  alll  If  this  keeps 
up  there  will  be  small  brigade  left  to  stand 
beside  Louis.  Do  you  like  that  thrust?  Mon 
Dieu!  .an  eighth  of  an  inch  more,  and  I  would 
have  had  you.  I  '11  try  another  —  what?  you 
know  the  guard?  Pah!  I  see;  't  was  only  an 
awkward  turn  of  the  wrist." 

My  foot  was  against  the  wall,  and  I  stood 
silent,  meeting  him  fairly  blade  to  blade.  The 
time  had  come  to  end  it  —  to  change  defense 
into  attack.  Cool  as  I  felt,  his  voice,  bitter, 
sarcastic,  cut  to  my  consciousness.  The  cur! 
let  him  threaten  and  brag;  I  would  teach  him 
yet  what  real  swordsmanship  was.  I  had  a 
soldier's  contempt  for  a  fencer;  faith  that  I 
would  outlast.  Let  the  fellow  talk,  and  waste 
his  breath  —  a  moment  more,  and  he  would 
need  it. 

"  Royal  Irlandais,"  he  mocked  insolently, 
no  doubt  seeking  to  anger  me,  "  a  fine  name 
for  a  lot  of  beggarly  bog  trotters.  No  doubt 
you  came  over  seas  to  sell  your  sword  with 
not  so  much  as  a  rag  to  your  back.  A  rare 
joke  on  the  king,  that.  And  now  you  're 
[33i] 


SHEA,  OF  THE  IRISH  BRIGADE 

squire  of  dames!  Parbleu!  boy,  and  to  what 
reward?  a  kiss  from  Mademoiselle's  red  lips? 
Bah!  you  '11  have  none  of  it  —  there  's  a  man 
seeking  that  honey  —  " 

"  Save  your  breath,  Monsieur,"  I  broke  in 
coldly,  the  hot  blood  boiling  through  my 
veins.  "  There  's  work  before  you  now." 

I  advanced  an  inch,  two  inches,  fighting  in 
deadly  earnest.  He  felt  my  strength,  my 
grim,  reckless  purpose,  and  fell  silent.  All 
at  once  he  seemed  to  realize  this  was  to  be 
no  boy's  play,  but  grim,  desperate  work.  The 
look  in  his  eyes  changed,  the  sarcastic  smile 
faded  from  his  lips.  They  were  pressed 
tightly  together  in  thin  line,  as  his  groping 
steel  touched  mine  with  that  soft,  purring  ca 
ress  which  pledges  deadly  action.  And  I 
forced  him  relentlessly,  driving  him  to  de 
fense,  permitting  no  opportunity  for  thrust. 
It  was  feint,  and  guard,  stroke  and  parry,  our 
nervous  blades  leaping  in  and  out  with  the 
rapidity  of  lightning.  I  watched  him  like  a 
hawk,  our  steel  ringing  a  merry  chorus,  our 
feet  shuffling  across  the  roof.  Twice  we  cir- 
[  332  ] 


CROSSED  SWORDS  WITH  DE  SAULE 

cled,  striving  vainly  to  strike  home;  once  he 
pricked  my  shoulder;  twice  I  felt  my  lunge 
touch  flesh!  Yet  neither  paused,  nor  gave 
back.  We  were  panting  for  breath,  our  faces 
grimly  set,  the  perspiration  dripping  from  our 
bodies.  Saint  Patrick!  that  was  a  bout  at 
arms  to  make  boast  over  —  a  fight,  no  fencing 
tourney;  the  growing  light  scintillating  from 
off  the  deadly  blades,  as  they  darted  back  and 
forth  in  ceaseless  thrust  and  parry. 

He  was  the  stronger  man;  ay!  and  the 
greater  skilled ;  but  I  had  youth,  recklessness, 
breath,  and  a  more  subtle  wrist.  He  fought 
like  a  demon,  yet  I  wore  him  down,  forcing 
him  back,  inch  by  inch,  until  his  foot  pressed 
the  wall.  It  was  there  we  ended  it  —  he  with 
high  guard  to  block  my  feint  toward  his  right 
shoulder;  I  with  quick  upward  thrust  beneath 
his  steel  which  sent  the  point  of  my  keen  blade 
hurtling  to  his  heart.  His  sword  fell  clatter 
ing  at  my  feet,  and  his  body  crumpled  into 
shapelessness,  one  gasp  alone  his  death  note. 

An  instant  I  stared  down  at  that  motionless 
body  against  the  wall,  gripping  my  sword 
[333] 


SHEA,  OF  THE  IRISH  BRIGADE 

hilt,  swaying  on  my  feet  like  a  drunken 
man.  All  had  occurred  so  quickly  my  brain 
reeled  with  dizziness  —  he  was  there  fighting 
like  a  mad  man ;  then  he  was  nothing,  a  mere 
lifeless  thing  at  my  feet. 
"  Monsieur  —  the  other  man!  " 
Her  voice  called  me,  awoke  me  with  its  in 
sistence.  I  glanced  about,  jerking  free  the 
sword  blade,  and  swung  around,  blood  drip 
ping  from  the  stained  steel.  The  fellow  was 
there,  between  us  and  the  tower  steps.  The 
dim  light  of  the  dawn  revealed  the  creased 
face  of  Francois,  and  he  held  a  gun  in  his 
hands.  Yet  armed  as  he  was,  evidently 
halted  by  the  sudden  killing  of  de  Saule,  as 
he  stole  forward  to  bear  a  hand  in  the  fray, 
his  attitude  was  that  of  fright,  of  indecision. 
Nor  did  I  give  him  time  for  thought.  I 
sprang  toward  him,  and  he  turned  and  fled, 
stumbling  at  the  steps  in  such  terror  that  he 
dropped  his  gun.  St.  Anne!  I  would  have 
pricked  him,  had  I  not  stumbled  on  a  piece  of 
d'Enville's  discarded  armor,  and  fallen  head 
long. 

[334] 


CHAPTER  XXV 

THE  SUNRISE  OF  TOMORROW 

I  CAME  slowly  back  to  consciousness,  to  see 
golden  sunlight  reflected  on  the  stones  of 
the  wall,  and  Mademoiselle's  sweet  face 
bending  above,  a  look  of  welcome  relief  in 
her  dark  eyes.  Her  hands  held  mine,  and  as 
I  endeavored  to  smile,  the  words  of  impulse 
dropped  from  her  lips. 

"  Oh,  Monsieur!  it  has  terrified  me  so  to  see 
you.  I  knew  not  what  to  do;  how  seriously 
you  were  hurt." 

"Bah!  not  at  all,"  really  ashamed  of  my 
awkwardness,  and  struggling  to  sit  up.  "  I 
stumbled  like  a  lout  and  fell,  cracking  my 
head.  I  'm  dizzy  yet,  but  't  is  nothing  to 
worry  over.  That  last  one  got  away?  " 

"  Yes,  Monsieur,"  her  anxious  eyes  on  me. 
"  I  have  seen  no  more  of  him,  but  you  —  you 
are  hurt.  There  are  wounds,  for  you  bleed." 

"  Mere  scratches,  Mademoiselle,  to  be 
[335] 


SHEA,  OF  THE  IRISH  BRIGADE 

healed  by  a  dash  of  water.  In  faith,  I  have 
fared  worse  in  a  garrison  fencing  match.  De 
Saule  was  the  only  swordsman  among  them; 
he  gave  me  a  pretty  fight.  Your  hand  again 
till  I  gain  my  feet  —  ah!  see,  the  old  strength 
will  be  mine  presently." 

She  clung  to  me,  and  I  reeled  a  bit  un 
steadily,  conscious  of  pain,  my  mind  still  dazed 
and  uncertain.  Yet  a  thrill  stirred  my  blood, 
as  my  eyes  left  her  face  and  glanced  about 
over  the  roof  now  clearly  revealed  in  the  day 
light.  Ay!  it  had  been  a  fight  worthy  any 
soldier,  a  tale  of  arms  worth  telling  in  camp 
or  court. 

D'Enville  had  left  his  deadly  mark  ere  he 
fell,  and  I  had  borne  my  part  well.  The  bod 
ies,  motionless,  huddled  in  grotesque  shapes 
just  as  they  had  fallen,  occasionally  lying  one 
upon  another  —  here,  close  to  where  I  stood, 
those  who  had  felt  the  sweep  of  the  chevalier's 
ancient  weapon,  and  over  there  by  the  broken 
wall  the  others  who  had  lived  to  advance  on 
me.  I  saw  Jule's  face  black-bearded,  scow 
ling  even  in  death,  and  the  livid  features  of 
[336] 


THE  SUNRISE  OF  TOMORROW 

the  hideous  dwarf,  his  thin  lips  drawn  back 
in  a  snarl.    And  d'Enville  — 

"  Your  brother,  Mademoiselle?  "  I  asked, 
my  lips  trembling.  "  Does  he  still  live?  " 

"  I  know  not,  Monsieur.  The  time  has  not 
been  long." 

"  You  have  not  left  me?  " 

"No,  Monsieur;  I  came  when  you  fell.  I 
was  so  frightened,  I  thought  only  of  your  hurt 
—  of  my  being  here  alone.  Yet  —  yet  I  think 
Charles  is  dead,  Monsieur  —  he  lies  motion 
less." 

He  rested  with  face  buried  on  one  arm,  his 
limbs  drawn  under  him,  the  very  posture  ex 
pressive  of  death,  yet  I  crossed  the  narrow 
space  between,  stepping  over  a  ragged  peas 
ant,  a  loathsome  fellow,  and  looked  closely. 
The  single  glance  was  enough;  he  had  been 
stricken  from  behind,  a  hideous  gash  cleav 
ing  the  skull.  I  drew  a  sharp  breath,  lifting 
my  eyes  to  her  face. 

"  He  is  dead,  Monsieur?  " 

"  Yes,"  soberly.  "  But  as  he  would  have 
wished  to  die." 

[337] 


SHEA,  OF  THE  IRISH  BRIGADE 

She  was  staring  at  him,  leaning  forward, 
her  face  white,  her  hands  shading  her  eyes. 
Then  she  crossed  before  me  and  knelt  down, 
making  the  symbol  of  the  cross.  I  waited  in 
silence,  sword  still  in  my  hand,  uncertain  of 
the  whereabouts  of  Francois,  or  if  he  had  oth 
ers  to  call  to  his  assistance.  It  was  so  still 
about  us  I  could  hear  the  thudding  of  my 
heart,  and  the  ghastly  forms  lying  here  and 
there  were  grim  reminders  of  the  horror  of  a 
moment  before.  I  could  scarcely  believe  the 
testimony  of  my  own  eyes,  that  these  men  were 
actually  dead  —  that  d'Enville  and  I  had  met 
them  sword  to  sword,  and  conquered.  The 
light  was  sufficiently  strong  by  now  to  yield 
me  glimpse  of  upturned  faces;  that  was  Guie- 
teau  just  before  the  opening  in  the  wall,  his 
huge  figure  extended  at  full  length,  his  ugly 
visage  staring  at  the  sky.  De  Saule  lay  curled 
up,  his  face  hidden,  but  Jules  was  on  his  side, 
and  seemed  to  grin  with  evil  stare  as  I  looked 
at  him. 

A  shudder  ran  over  me,  and  my  head 
throbbed  with  a  dull  pain.  Then  I  became 
[338] 


THE  SUNRISE  OF  TOMORROW 

conscious  that  Mademoiselle  had  risen  from 
her  knees.  It  was  her  voice  which  penetrated 
the  haze  of  my  brain,  and  aroused  me  to 
action. 

"Monsieur  —  what  —  what  are  we  to  do 
now?  " 

"  In  truth,"  I  replied,  ashamed  of  myself, 
and  seeking  for  words  of  encouragement, 
"  You  are  the  soldier,  I  the  girl,  it  would 
seem.  I  was  moping  here  with  a  brain  par 
alyzed.  What  shall  we  do,  Mademoiselle? 
Why  we  must  find  our  way  out,  before  that 
fellow  who  got  away  unscathed  can  find  more 
villains  to  bar  the  passage." 

"  You  think  there  are  more?  " 

"  That  I  do  not  know.  Ay!  there  must  be, 
unless  they  have  fled,  for  a  larger  number  than 
those  who  lie  dead  here  were  on  guard  in  that 
lower  hall.  You  saw  them." 

"Yes,  Monsieur;  there  were  others,  four, 
or  five,  perhaps." 

"That  was  my  memory;  no  doubt  the 
cowards  slipped  away  unseen,  afraid  to  follow. 
Well  such  as  they  will  not  serve  to  halt  us. 
[339] 


SHEA,  OF  THE  IRISH  BRIGADE 

You  fired  your  pistol,  Mademoiselle.  I  had 
better  load  it  again  before  we  go." 

While  I  was  engaged  at  this  task  she  moved 
nearer  the  wall,  as  though  seeking  to  avoid 
the  bodies.  Suddenly  she  gave  a  little  cry  of 
surprise. 

"Monsieur  —  who  are  they?" 

She  pointed  to  the  southward,  and,  with  a 
step,  I  stood  beside  her  sharply  gazing  across 
the  marsh  toward  the  distant  forest.  A  short 
column  of  horsemen,  two  abreast,  even  at  that 
distance  in  fair  sight,  was  riding  along  the 
narrow  causeway,  headed  toward  the  castle 
gate. 

That  they  were  soldiers  was  evident  to  me 
at  a  glance,  yet  the  distance  prevented  my 
eyes  from  distinguishing  the  uniform,  and 
there  was  no  wind  to  spread  their  pennons  — 
a  scouting  party  no  doubt,  or  a  squad  of  for 
agers.  But  belonging  to  which  army!  I 
stared  long. 

"Ay!  they  are  soldiers,  and  coming  here, 
but  I  cannot  tell  if  they  be  enemies,  or 
friends,"  I  said  at  last  "This  is  neutral 
[340] 


THE  SUNRISE  OF  TOMORROW 

ground,  scouted  over  by  detachments  from 
both  camps." 

"  You  cannot  tell!  you  do  not  seel "  her  dark 
eyes  shone,  as  they  met  mine.  "  Why,  Mon 
sieur,  I  can  distinguish  the  uniform  of  the 
officer  in  front  — it  —  it  is  like  the  one  you 
wear;  they  are  of  the  Irish  Brigade." 

I  leaned  out  over  the  wall,  and  looked 
again,  becoming  dimly  conscious  that  she  was 
right  —  they  were  indeed  Royal  Irlandais, 
—  and  we  were  safe!  The  sudden  reaction  of 
this  discovery  left  me,  for  the  instant  helpless 
and  inert.  My  one  thought  was  regret  —  it 
would  mean  our  parting  never  to  meet  again. 
The  barrier  of  rank  rose  inevitably  between 
us,  enforcing  separation  and  a  life  apart.  She, 
the  daughter  of  the  Marquis  d'Enville,  would 
go  back  to  the  court,  leaving  me  to  the  old 
life  of  camp  and  field.  The  dream  was  done; 
the  hope  of  love  dead  within  me.  I  felt  the 
light  touch  of  her  hand  on  my  sleeve,  and 
lifted  my  eyes  to  her  face. 

"  What  is  it,  Monsieur?   You  are  not  glad." 

H  For  your  dear  sake,  yes,  Mademoiselle,"  I 
[34i] 


SHEA,  OF  THE  IRISH  BRIGADE 

answered  gravely.  "  I  rejoice  at  your  safety. 
But  surely  you  must  realize  what  this  will 
mean?  You  will  return  to  Paris,  and  resume 
your  position.  Louis  will  never  dare  avow 
his  connection  with  this  diabolical  plot  of  de 
Saule's.  He  will  smile  and  dissemble  as  a 
monarch  can.  And  I  —  well  all  I  shall  retain 
of  you  will  be  the  memory  that  once  I  was  of 


service." 


"And  why,  Monsieur?"  her  voice  earnest 
and  sincere.  "  Shall  I  not  still  remain  Ca- 
mille  d'Enville?  " 

"  Of  whose  nature  you  have  told  me  —  a 
creature  of  moods;  changeable  as  the  strange 
weave  of  silk  given  your  name.  Think  you 
I  have  so  soon  forgotten  the  warning  of  what 
a  difference  the  dawn  of  a  morrow  might 
bring?  " 

There  was  an  instant  of  silence;  the  words 
she  would  speak  hesitating  on  her  lips.  Her 
cheeks  were  flushed,  her  eyes  lowered. 

"  This  is  the  morrow,  Monsieur." 

"And  you?" 

"I  —  I  have  not  changed ;  perhaps  —  pcr- 

[342] 


THE  SUNRISE  OF  TOMORROW? 

haps,  I  did  not  tell  you  all  the  truth.  It  seems 
different  now,  since  I  have  met  a  man." 

Increduously,  scarcely  understanding,  I 
could  but  grasp  her  extended  hands. 

"  Look  at  me,"  I  cried  eagerly.  "  I  would 
see  your  eyes.  You  mean  —  " 

The  long  lashes  lifted  shyly,  a  sweet  smile 
in  the  depths  of  the  eyes  suddenly  revealed. 

"  That  I  love  you,  Monsieur." 

'T is  the  end  of  a  soldier's  story;  just  a 
chapter  or  two  torn  from  out  the  history  of  a 
fighting  race.  The  sunshine  was  on  our  faces, 
the  light  of  love  in  our  hearts,  and  down  below 
my  comrades  rode  steadily  to  the  rescue.  For 
me  the  world  was  won. 


THE  END 


UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA  AT  LOS  ANGELES 


University  of  California 

SOUTHERN  REGIONAL  LIBRARY  FACILITY 

405  Hilgard  Avenue,  Los  Angeles,  CA  90024-1388 

Return  this  material  to  the  library 

from  which  it  was  borrowed. 


m 

JftN  1 


6  1996 


QUARTER  LOAN 
(HOOT  H  1996 


A  000  927  477  o 


PS 

3531 

P24s 


